


I know Why the Caged Bird Sings

by AabH



Series: A caged bird stands on the grave of dreams [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Blood and Violence, Breathplay, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Dom/sub Undertones, Food Issues, Graphic Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Praise Kink, Sexual Content, Slavery, Substance Abuse, Violence, dub con, handjobs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 84,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AabH/pseuds/AabH
Summary: Aged up characters. Slavery AU. Tags will be added as needed and the rating will change. Please pay attention to Content Warnings and Tags, there are there for a reason.**Why had Noble Synergy hired him? Why had he accepted the offer? The neat six figure salary had certainly played a role in his decision. Were his morals so easily bought? Apparently. Will sighed, fiddling with his suit jacket in agitation. Joyce noticed his nervous fidgeting and discomfort (she always did) and tried to help.“Just pick a nice assistant. They can help you get settled and get ahead at work and once the lease is up, things will be fine. Go back to normal.”“Unless you extend the contract. Hell, even buy.” Hopper pointed out, eyes still trained on his phone.Joyce shot her husband a withering look as Will stared at him, aghast. Hopper glanced up, noticing the tension.“What? I’m just saying the kid’s gonna be making the money. He could afford to keep one on,” he grumbled, quickly turning his eyes back to the screen of his phone. “I mean, did you see the contract they offered? And that apartment they provided? Not saying he’s gotta keep it, only that he could...”
Relationships: Will Byers/Mike Wheeler
Series: A caged bird stands on the grave of dreams [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832107
Comments: 212
Kudos: 168





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to dive into some pretty dark and dubious topics including slavery, sexual abuse, past trauma, and substance abuse. I really wanna be clear here that this is not a story for kids. We are gonna take a deep delve into some pretty dark topics so feel free to click away at any time. This is not going to be soft and fluffy. Proceed at your own discretion.

“Mom, I’m-I’m extremely uncomfortable with this,” Will said, adjusting his tie and looking down at his phone where his mother’s face gazed up at him from her own. 

“Oh, Honey, I know. I know it’s uncomfortable and strange and not in any way ideal. Do you really have to do it?” she asked, softening her expression and setting down her coffee mug. “It’s only temporary, right?” she asked, knowing that not only did her son find the situation distasteful, it actually _repulsed_ him. 

“Yeah it’s just for a while… I think they said the lease was two years. A uh, signing bonus. Think I can decline it? Explain that I don’t need it?” he asked, embarrassed by the whole situation in the first place. 

“You need to just bite the bullet, kid. We’re all proud of you for landing that position. How good of an impression do you think it’s gonna make if you _decline_ part of the signing package?” Hopper asked, glancing up from his own phone where he was reading something or other. “The uh, the signing bonus, it is what it is, you know?”

Will grimaced, knowing Hopper was trying his best, but as part of the police force he’d been so conditioned to see it all as not only normal and acceptable, but something he himself had to _enforce_. It wasn’t especially helpful that Will disagreed with the whole program on a moral, personal level. How was he supposed to participate in something he not only disagreed with but had protested against in college? Frankly, Will was surprised he hadn’t been flagged and put on some sort of list because of it. 

Why had Noble Synergy hired him? Why had he accepted the offer? The neat six figure salary had certainly played a role in his decision. Were his morals so easily bought? Apparently. Will sighed, fiddling with his suit jacket in agitation. Joyce noticed his nervous fidgeting and discomfort (she always did) and tried to help.

“Just pick a nice assistant. They can help you get settled and get ahead at work and once the lease is up, things will be fine. Go back to normal.”

“Unless you extend the contract. Hell, even buy.” Hopper pointed out, eyes still trained on his phone. 

Joyce shot her husband a withering look as Will stared at him, aghast. Hopper glanced up, noticing the tension. 

“What? I’m just saying the kid’s gonna be making the money. He could afford to keep one on,” he grumbled, quickly turning his eyes back to the screen of his phone. “I mean, did you see the contract they offered? And that apartment they provided? Not saying he’s _gotta_ keep it, only that he _could_...”

Joyce quickly smacked her husband’s arm, effectively silencing him. Will grimaced again. It was true. With the money he’d be making (right out of college no less) Will could afford to live comfortably while putting away for his mother and _still_ have enough left over to afford… extra expenses. Will would get to work with computers and coding and eventually, maybe even develop his own tech, his own line of products. That was his _real_ passion anyway. It’s not like he’d be working on the home systems or the collars or anything like that. Will was hired as part of a team developing systems to monitor Domestic’s health and wellbeing. This was a great opportunity in every way, it really was. Being given a Domestic was the only real drawback. This was just a stepping stone along the way. One very, _very_ distasteful stepping stone. 

Will looked back down at his phone, at his mother who offered him a reassuring smile. 

“It doesn’t have to be all bad. Remember Mr. Clarke, your tutor? He was a Domestic. You never had a problem working with him, he helped you so much.”

Will groaned, rubbing his temple. 

“Mom, he _was_ a Domestic. Not when I knew him, not when he helped me. There’s a difference.”

“I know, I’m just trying to point out that it doesn’t have to be this awkward, horrible thing.”

“It is though, Mom. It is awkward and horrible and I don’t want to do it.”

Joyce sighed and Hopper rolled his eyes. 

“Listen, I have to go. I’ll call later, okay?”

“Okay hun. Let me know how it goes.”

Will disconnected the call and sat back in his newly purchased sofa in his newly rented apartment and stared at the phone. The apartment was state of the art, the latest tech, the most desirable location. He pushed down the anxiety and bile that was building in his throat and looked at the clock. Just an hour until his appointment. Will had made a deal with the devil and now it was time to pay up.

**

God, this was even worse than Will had imagined. He was greeted by an employee who’d taken Will’s information, his employee ID, and authentication number. She had the questionnaire Will had filled out a week earlier (so they could personalize his experience and product) and assured him that she would make sure all of his needs and requirements were met. She was polite and well dressed in a purple blouse and black pencil skirt and very knowledgeable. She’d told him his lease limit was up to forty five thousand. 

A very basic Domestic could go for as little as five to seven thousand where a well trained or highly desirable one as much as half a mil she explained, her heels clicking quietly as she led Will down to the showroom. Forty five was plenty to choose a well trained personal assistant. Will’s stomach turned at the thought of what exactly it was he was doing as the woman keyed in a code and opened the door for him, exposing a large, bright room. 

The peditals, the displays were set up very professionally, like everything else in the facility. Each had their product on display with a placard of information about them, the products themselves surrounded by flattering lights and objects that showed off their various skills. 

Will was so uncomfortable with all this, he had trouble looking at any of them. His guide stopped in front of a lovely blond in a smart three piece suit that sat at a piano. 

“This one types at not only sixty eight words a minute, it is a master of jazz piano and has fifteen years experience as an administrative assistant. He is a perfect fit for any office or social situation,” she explained, smiling pleasantly. 

Will looked at the man who offered him a placid smile. Will glanced away, deeply unnerved. 

“Do um, do you have any interests?” he asked, not sure what to say. 

“Assisting you, Sir.”

“That’s… That’s not exactly what I meant,” Will said, looking to the woman who was guiding him. 

“Sir, they are here to assist you in any way you may need or require. However, they are specifically trained in three to four skills only. If you desire something beyond their skill set, might I suggest multiple Domestics? One of course is covered by your signing bonus but a leasing arrangement and payment plan can be arranged for a second or third,” the guide said, smiling brightly. 

“Oh, oh not thank you. I um, I’m really not interested in more than one,” Will tried to explain, wondering if he was offending the guide who he suspected was herself, a Domestic. 

The woman simply smiled. 

“I understand you’re a first time owner? This must be uncomfortable for you. Would you prefer to browse on your own, at your leisure?”

“If that’s okay?”

“Of course. Please take your time. I shall be just over there,” she pointed, indicating a desk near the entrance. “If you require anything or have any questions, please, do not hesitate to ask. Once you’ve made a selection, I’ll happily process you and all the paperwork.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she said, smiling again. 

Once she turned and strode away, heels clicking lightly, Will looked back around the showroom. Now unsupervised (or at the very least, given the illusion of privacy), Will began to walk and wander. It was both better and worse than it had been. All eyes were on him, he didn’t have anyone to hide behind now. Even though they all watched him, none of the Domestics spoke. Most offered serene smiles, others turned away as he approached, deciding on demonstrating their various skills. Will lingered on who used an over sized tablet to paint digitally, but he moved on, still uncomfortable. 

They were all so immaculate. Cleaned and styled and dressed in ways that _couldn’t_ be comfortable, made up to look less human and more like dolls. Will walked through the rows of pedestals, only stopping again when he noticed one kneeling on the floor, hands cuffed and resting on his thighs. 

This was the only one Will had seen that wasn’t blatantly on display. If anything, he was tucked away, almost hidden. He had no pedestal, not fancy clothes or overdone makeup. It sat unmoving, quiet, with it’s eyes lowered towards the ground. There was no pillow to kneel on, no shoes on it’s feet, and it wore only a simple white tunic and slacks. There was no display card with his talents or age listed, no props to indicate what it was this man did, nothing; just chains around his wrists, ankle, and a collar on his throat. Will paused, confused, and took a step closer, to get a better look at him. 

The domestic looked young, probably of an age with Will if maybe a little older. He was thin, lanky, with dark curls and freckles. Will edged a little closer and his feet coming into the Domestic’s field of vision seemed to rouse him from his stupor. He looked up briefly, glancing at Will with dark eyes before returning to keep looking at the floor. Will stepped around him, examining him and trying to figure out exactly what was going on. 

Why was he in chains? Why no placard or pedestal? Why was it so tucked away and out of view and what was that light shaking in it’s body? Will frowned as he stepped back around and looked down at the man again. When Will’s feet came back into view, the Domestic looked back up briefly. He had a defiant look on his face which only lasted a moment before he looked back down, shifting a little, adjusting the way he sat. Behind him, Will heard the click click click of heels on marble as the guide hurried over to Will. 

“Anything I can help you with, Sir?” she asked, urging Will to take a few steps back and away from the man on the floor, putting distance between them.

Will motioned to the man anyway, despite the guide's attempts to draw him away. 

“What’s his story?”

“Oh, my apologies, Sir. This one is here to learn how to behave himself. We’ve had a few minor issues with obedience and compliance on his part. He is here to learn how to be still and quiet. We thought that leaving him here to observe the proper selection procedure would be good for him. I’m so sorry if he disturbed you.”

“What’s his skill set?” Will asked, suddenly intrigued. 

Will had never heard of any Domestics with behavioral problems and that defiant look piqued Will’s interest. 

“This one is a trained Companion, Sir. Not the skill set you requested.”

“Companion? Does he have conversational skills?”

“If that’s what you require, yes. But again, we’ve had obedience and defiance issues with this one.”

“Is that why he’s in cuffs?” Will asked, looking around. “None of the other’s are.”

“Yes, Sir. This one must learn obedience and patience. He’s been instructed to kneel here until relieved, to help him learn. The cuffs are in case he decided to ignore the request and wander off. As you can see, the one on his ankle is affixed to the floor to discourage that behavior.”

“How long has he been kneeling?”

“Since eight am, Sir.”

Will raised his eyebrows and looked back down at the man. Eight am? It was almost one in the afternoon now. It had to have been painful, sitting on the stone tile floor balanced only on his knees and toes. His back must have ached, his legs likely asleep. Will frowned harder. 

“Has he moved since being instructed to kneel?”

“No Sir.”

That seemed fairly obedient to Will. 

“What is he being punished for, exactly?”

“Refusal to cooperate with the physicians on staff. This one has a fear of needles and would not comply with a blood draw and immunization booster. He had to be given three corrections before he was still enough for examination.”

That seemed a little over the top to Will and he gave the guide a look that must have said as much because she shifted and continued. 

“I know it seems harsh, but if this one can learn to be still and withstand the pain of his punishment, he can learn to be still and endure the pain of a needle,” the host explained, still smiling a little. 

Frankly, the way she smiled while speaking so plainly about this was kind of creepy. Will looked back down at the kneeling man, still undecided. 

“Can he read? Write?”

“Of course.”

“Can he type?”

“No Sir. That was not a required skill for his training.”

It didn’t matter. Will could still have the Domestic take notes, help keep him organized. And a Companion would at least be good for company, keeping Will from becoming too isolated and withdrawn. Will turned to the guide.

“What’s his IQ? Is he intelligent?”

“I do not have his file on hand, but yes, Sir. This one is intelligent. It reads very well and is articulate.”

“And you said he can hold conversations?”

“If it is required, yes. All Companions are trained so they can perform at any public functions or activities they may be exposed to. He is well versed in what is required of him.”

“Cost?”

“Fifteen, Sir. But I would be remiss if I did not reiterate that this one is not what you requested. It’s skill set is not that of a personal assistant.”

Will nodded, surprised at how inexpensive the Domestic was.

“Why so cheap?”

“As I said, Sir, this one has had disciplinary and behavioral issues. Anyone who takes it on will receive a discount due to it’s poor training. Whoever he comes under contract with will have to take on the burden of his continued training along with his care. He is not unusable, but would require a firm hand. If this is the selection you make, we will be happy to put in a clause allowing for a break in contract and offer a replacement at no penalty to you, as he is not up to our standards,” the guide explained. 

“Is he dangerous in any way? Prone to violence?”

“Not at all, Sir. Just not to our high standards.”

Will looked back down at the kneeling man. He didn’t look like a handful, but if the company had high standards for complete compliance on their products part, any kind of deviation would be considered unacceptable. Will was intrigued. A little bit of defiance wasn’t a bad trait to have, was it? Hell, most Domestics he’d seen had seemed soulless, emotionless. At least this one seemed a bit more like a person and less like a roomba. 

“Can I see his skill set in action?” Will asked, wondering how well the man could read and write, what his voice sounded like and if he was easy to converse with. 

“You’d like to audition him? There is a five thousand dollar deposit for an audition, to ensure the safety and well being of our products.”

“Ah, no, that’s okay,” Will said, noticing the man looking back up from the floor to Will’s feet. 

When Will turned to look at him, the Domestic met his eyes instead of looking away. He looked at Will with a steady, unblinking expression, unreadable. 

“I’ll take this one,” Will said, still meeting the other man’s gaze. 

“As you wish, Sir. I am happy to process you whenever you like. Shall we have it delivered to you or would you rather return to collect it?”

“Um, delivered? I guess?” Will said, unsure. “I have a few things I have to do today but should be home this evening. Is there anything I need to purchase for him?”

“No Sir. He will be delivered with all his items and accessories. If you like, we can provide you with it’s measurements so that you may have any custom items tailored as needed. Otherwise, we will provide everything you need.”

Will nodded, feeling very strange about the whole ordeal. Had he really just bought himself… a friend? Well, _leased_ someone to _pretend_ to be his friend. Was Will honestly that lonely and desperate for companionship? Apparently so, and apparently desperate enough to ignore his moral objections (he had to sign a lease one way or another, right?). This whole thing felt so impersonal, like getting a company car. At least Will had found one with _some_ spunk, life left to it. Maybe this could feel less like enslavement and more like actual companionship. 

Yeah, maybe.

**

The paperwork was extensive, intensive, and a little intimidating. There were clauses and releases and notations galore. There were instructions on Domestic behavioral parameters and what would be considered a breach of contract (maiming without paying a hefty fine was cause for legal action but not Domestic death as long as it perished while providing it’s service? That had to be for bodyguards, what else could it refer to?). Domestics were not allowed assets in value more than one thousand dollars and they were not allowed to own real estate at all. All cash had to be freely give (though no ‘payments’ were allowed and no legal accounts could be opened for them). Medical attention had to be provided as needed along with a checkup every three months to ensure good health. Will wondered what ‘as needed’ meant exactly since it was apparently okay to have a Domestic die in it’s service but he didn’t worry too much about that. Will had no intentions to harm the Domestic in any way and if it was injured or ill, he wouldn’t deny them medical treatment. What kind of monster would?

Still, Will was nervous. This was a whole person, a life under his care (his control) and he wasn’t sure exactly what was expected of him. Will took a klonopin and tried to settle his nerves. He’d tried to research online the things he’d be expected to do, the nuances of having a Domestic, but most sources he found were perverted fetish sites or disgusting in other ways. None of them really offered any relevant information; the closest thing he found was a thread about sixteen year olds getting their first Domestics as a way of teaching them responsibility. It felt a lot more like researching how to take care of a pet rather than another person. 

Will tapped his foot nervously and closed the tab, pouring himself half a glass of wine, hoping it would help. Maybe Will had made a mistake. Maybe he should have settled for that gig for half the pay and none of the perks. He’d never agreed with the concept of Domestics and he felt woefully ill prepared to have one now. Could he have politely declined it? Had there been a way to do that or had Hopper been right, that his hands had been tied the moment he signed the contract?

Will stirred restlessly as he waited for the delivery. The confirmation text had come twenty minutes ago, saying the ‘package’ was en route, it shouldn’t be long now. Will tapped his foot again and sipped his wine, trying to distract himself. He was so startled when his intercom buzzed that he almost dropped the glass with how badly he jerked. Will rose to his feet and hurried to answer it. 

“Yes?”

“Mr. Byers? We have a delivery from Noble Synergy for you.”

“Send it up,” he said, nerves flaring again. “Please.”

“Yes Sir.”

Okay, this was it; potentially the biggest mistake Will had ever made. What if he wasn’t a good caretaker? What if the Domestic didn’t have everything it needed or wanted? What if having one made Will lazy (or worse yet, cruel)? What if he mistreated it and worked it too hard? Will swallowed and stood by the door, waiting for the knock. 

When it came, Will pushed the door open and quickly stepped aside so a well dressed woman could enter, followed closely by the dark haired Domestic Will had chosen. Will glanced him over but the man was staring at his feet so Will redirected his attention to the woman who was smiling and extending a hand.

“Mr. Byers, my name is Barbara Holland, I’m your liaison for Noble Synergy. I’m here to help you and your purchase settle in and answer any and all questions you may have. May I sit?”

“Yeah, of course,” Will said, moving aside so the woman could move more fully into the newly furnished apartment. 

The woman entered, not glancing back to see if the tall, freckled Domestic was following (he was) and settled herself onto the loveseat while the man stood quietly next to her. Barb set down a folder and a small hand held device on the coffee table before motioning Will to sit as well. She opened the folder, pulling papers and a tablet free before spreading them out. Will sat across from her, glancing again to the Domestic who still had his dark eyes trained on the floor. 

“Eager to test him out? Understandable. I see here that you’re a first time owner so there are a few things I’d like to go over with you before I get out of your way,” she said with a chuckle as Will looked away from the man, embarrassed. 

“Sure.”

Will listened to the woman explain the contract, the paperwork, signing where she needed him to. She explained that the tablet was provided by the company and had a number of apps that were directly connected to the Domestic, his unique signature, that monitored his health, activities, vital signs, things of that nature. It had a custom program with useful guides for Domestic ownership, training routines, and a direct line to customer service if he ever needed it. It offered an option to collect notes on his Domestic in order to customize and review his experience. When the woman pushed the hand held device she’d initially taken out of her pocket towards Will, he blinked at her in confusion. 

“This is, unfortunately, due to you selecting a particularly difficult product. This device will allow you to administer a small corrective shock directly to the collar, just here,” she said, motioning to the man standing next to her who lowered his head obediently so she could show Will the collar more closely. “The frequency and voltage of the shock is completely up to your discretion of course, but whatever setting you select will not be lethal. Unless the Domestic has a heart condition, any voltage you select should be well within acceptable parameters. The Domestic you’ve selected is, fortunately, in prime health,” she explained, pushing the device towards Will. 

Will stared at her, then at the device, and finally at the Domestic. The tall, dark haired man had stood up again, but the collar was clearly visible. It was what looked like leather of some kind with a thick padding lining it along the Domestic’s long throat. At least three chrome rings hung loosely from different points and Will was afraid to even ask what those were for. Will blinked and looked back at Barb. 

“It’s curious how one so inexperienced would choose such a difficult Domestic but I suppose some people like a challenge,” she said, offering a smile. 

Will swallowed again. 

“Do you have any questions for me at this time?”

“No, just uh, at the facility, they said he would be coming with his possessions? Do I need to go pick them up?”

“Ah, yes. There are several packages we left at the front desk so as to not overwhelm you. They include all of it’s items and accessories. Would you like them to be sent up?”

“Sure,” Will said, eager to get this all over with so he could settle in and be done with these people. 

Barb touched something in her ear and spoke quietly before turning to look back at Will. 

“Thank you for your patience, Sir. You’ll soon have your privacy to begin the adjustment period with your new Domestic,” she said, as if she was reading his thoughts. 

Will nodded, still casting glances to the tall man even as people began filing in, depositing a small assortment of boxes off to the side of the room. Was the other man as nervous as Will was? He didn’t look like it. All he’d done since entering was stand quietly next to the loveseat, not even any nervous fidgeting or shifting weight from one foot to another. When the crew was done and Barb gave him a final handshake, Will felt his stomach flip. 

He turned to fully face the other man for the first time, eye to eye. He was taller than Will by a few inches (Will had figured as much, even though he’d only seen the man kneeling before), his hair was neatly styled in less of an attempt to tame the curls so much as showcase them, and he was thin, maybe weighing less than Will did. He stayed looking at his feet for a moment before raising his dark eyes, finally meeting Will’s. When he did, Will felt his stomach twist again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a difficult first day as an owner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Sexual language, substance use, referenced past abuse, food issues.

The man looked at Will with that same, serene, strangely calm look all Domestics at the facility seemed to have had; no emotion, no indication of what he was thinking. Had Will imagined the defiant look the man had given him at the facility? He didn’t think so, it had been pretty clear at the time. After a moment, Will cleared his throat to speak, to break the heavy silence. 

“I’m Will Byers.”

“I know.”

Oh. Okay. 

Will cleared his throat again, uncomfortable. 

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name,” Will tried, cracking a nervous smile. “What, uh, what is it?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

Well, that wasn't particularly helpful, no matter how true it may be. Will tried again. 

“What do you call yourself?”

The man blinked slowly, as if considering the question. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other before answering. 

“CPM8908.”

It was Will’s turn to blink. He laughed again, a nervous response to being startled. 

“What?”

“CPM8908,” the man said again, confirming that it wasn’t just a number he’d come up with off the top of his head to fuck with Will. 

Will shifted, uncomfortable, unsure. The Domestic didn’t have a name? Only a designation? Jesus, this was worse than Will had realized. Did _any_ Domestics have names? Hadn’t there been a big push in the 90’s for voluntary Domestication as a way for people to pay debts, work off jail time for nonviolent offenders? They had to have names, didn’t they? Will hadn’t met many and hadn’t spoken to them in depth enough to ever ask before. 

“Did um, the last person you were with, that you worked for… Did they call you anything besides your designation?”

“Slave.”

Will winced. Oh. Oh wow. Okay. That was a bit of a system shock, a harsh reality check. Yeah, Will knew, had always known what Domestics were. He may have sanitized it, cleaned it up in his mind, convinced himself that he was only taking care of someone else in return for the service they provided (and he fully intended to) but it was in fact, slavery. Will swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“Oh. Well, um, I can show you around if you like,” he said, trying to change the subject, not sure how to respond and fighting to ignore the troubled feelings that grew the longer the man looked at him. 

“As you wish,” the freckled man said, lowering his eyes from their relentlessly intense stare to look down at Will’s hands as they fidgeted at the shorter man’s sides.

Will turned, motioning for the other man to follow him as he walked. 

“This is the kitchen, obviously. I don’t have it fully stocked yet so if there’s anything I don’t have that you want, just write it down right here,” Will said, motioning to the white board he had hung up on the refrigerator. “Feel free to eat anything you want or cook whatever you like. I’m not much of a cook but uh, I have pretty much whatever you need. Housewarming gift from my mom,” Will said, worried he was chattering too much. 

“Over here is the dining room. Again, I’m not totally moved in yet so it’s a little barren,” Will apologized but the other man didn’t reply. 

Will turned on a heel and kept going, showing off the half bathroom in the hall, the balcony, his office, and paused at his bedroom. 

“This is my room. Your’s is just over here, next room over,” Will explained. “You ever need anything in the night or whatever, I’m just a knock away,” he said, laughing again.

The man paused, standing motionless by Will’s bedroom, gazing in. 

“My room?” he asked, turning to look at Will with those dark, dark eyes. “We won’t be sharing quarters?”

“Uh, no?” Will said, confused. “I have plenty of space, you can have your own room. It’s not huge or anything and I haven’t really decorated it, but it’s got a bathroom attached and a nice view. So uh, hopefully it’ll be okay,” Will said, apologizing again.

Will stepped away from his room, shutting the door and walked quickly down the hall to the next room, pushing the door open. The other man followed him, face unreadable as ever as he looked around. Will took a step back and watched him look the room over, watched the curly haired man take a step deeper into the room. 

“There’s body wash and shampoo and stuff in the bath but if you have preferences for brands or scents or anything, just write it down on the same board as the grocery list,” Will said, still watching the other man walk around the room. “Or uh, really, anything you need. Clothes, face wash, whatever. Just let me know.”

The man looked over his shoulder, dark eyes unreadable. 

“Would you like me to stay in here?”

“Yeah. Well, not all the time or anything. Just, this is your room. You know, your space. You can hang out and unwind here or in the living room when we're done working. Wherever you’re comfortable.”

“Working. Oh, okay,” the man said, eyelids drooping a little, getting heavier. “When do we start?”

“I don’t have to be into the office until next week, so on Monday. You feel up to that?” Will asked, taking another step back into the hall.

“I’m up for anything,” the man said, relaxing his posture, hands hanging loosely at his side. 

“O-okay,” Will said, a little taken aback by the sudden change in the other man’s demeanor. “The boxes that were brought in, do you need any help getting your things put away?”

“No. I’m perfectly capable.”

“Well, once you’re settled, you can come find me in the office. I’m going to go over the tablet Barb left, try and get used to it. So just whenever you’re done, head on over. I’ll be waiting. I wanna test out your skills since we didn’t get a chance to do that at the facility. Don’t rush, there’s no hurry,” Will clarified, not wanting the Domestic to feel like he had to hurry so as not to inconvenience Will. 

Honestly, Will was feeling pretty uncomfortable with all this and could use the time to be alone and collect his thoughts. Giving the Domestic time to settle in and get used to his surroundings was as good of an excuse as any to keep the Domestic away from him without _ordering_ the other man away. Will didn’t want to do that.. Will looked at the tall, curly haired man who watched him with a steady gaze. 

“I’ll uh, leave you to it,” Will said, cracking a nervous smile. “Find me when you’re done.”

“As you wish.”

Will turned to leave, feeling disquieted with how the Domestic had responded. It was the second time he’d used that phrase. Will hurried to his office, trying to put space between the two of them so he could breathe and think (why was he having shortness of breath and chest pain? A panic attack?). He was absolutely going to have to do more research on… on ownership. Will felt way over his head on this, on sharing his space and dealing with another person this way. It was just a lot to take in and deal with.

His office set up had been provided by the company and it was… impressive, much more so than his previous home workspace had been. The desk alone probably cost more than Will’s first car, made of solid African Blackwood and his laptop looked a little pathetic by itself on there. But the company had provided Will with a computer and dual monitors powerful enough to handle the stresses of the applications Noble Synergy demanded of him and his work.

Will pulled one of the drawers open and dropped the ‘correctional device’ inside, never wanting to see it again. He pulled out a prescription bottle and popped it open, breaking a Valium in half and chewing it between his teeth as he settled in to work. The bitter taste didn’t bother him, he just wanted it to work, to give him some relief from the strained feeling in his chest. Will pulled out a notebook and pen then set up his computer with a word document open so he could test out the Domestic’s typing. Shit, Will couldn’t keep thinking of him as ‘the Domestic’, it was too dehumanizing. Maybe the other man could come up with his own name? Something he _wanted_ to be called?

Will leaned forward in his desk chair and began typing, trying to find more helpful blogs on the topic. If he was under a two year leasing contract, the very least he could do was _try_ and figure out the best course of action, how he should act. Will was so deeply invested in his reading and relaxation the pill provided that he barely heard the office door open or the other man approach. 

“I’ve completed my task.”

Will jumped, a little startled. 

“Oh, you’re all settled in already?”

“Yes Sir. I’m ready to demonstrate my skills.”

“Great,” Will said, grinning a little, more relaxed now. “I wanna try out some things and see where you might need work. You know, what areas we need to concentrate on to get you up to speed.”

Will stood and moved around the desk to pull the pen and notepad closer. “And I don’t want you to call me ‘Sir’,” he said, flushing a little at the title. 

The dark haired man stepped closer (uncomfortably close) to Will and lowered his gaze. Will wanted to step back, to get his own space again but wasn’t sure that backing away was a great way to start out their relationship, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. Was the invasion of personal space one of the behavioral issues that had been mentioned? Will jerked a little when the man leaned closer, lowered his head, putting only inches between them. 

“Okay… Daddy.”

Will sputtered, totally taken off guard. 

“W-what did you just call me? First of all, you’re older than me. I read your file. Second of all, that’s not- that’s not any better at all! I just meant that you could call me Will,” he stuttered, leaning away. “Why the hell would you call me _that_?” Will asked, face burning red as the other man paused, apparently confused. 

Will had never, _ever_ had anyone talk to him like that before. He felt defensive, embarrassed, and taken aback by it. The freckled man hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how to proceed before he broke into a slow grin. 

“Oh, okay. I hear you. Sorry, my last Master wasn’t so young,” he apologized, straightening his posture a little. “Is this more what you want, Baby Boy?” he asked, moving into Will’s space until the shorter man either had to take a step back or be in actual physical contact with him. “You want someone to take care of you, huh? All alone in a new city, a new place. Need someone to bend you over this desk and show you who’s boss? Want me to take real good care of you, Baby?”

Will backed up until his thighs hit the desk and he planted his palms against it to steady himself, totally stunned (and with blood rushing to his groin). He stared at the taller man, mouth agape as the other man leaned forward, cupping Will’s jaw and turning his head to the side. 

“Is that what you want, Baby? Want Daddy to absolutely destroy you, until you’re crying, then take real good care of you after?”

Will took a shuddering breath, still surprised but coming to his senses a little. He twisted away, pulling his face free from the other man’s grasp and turned to look at him fully. Why the fuck was he acting like that? The change was so sudden, it was almost like the taller man was reading from a script, trying to adapt to what he thought Will wanted. 

“W-what the hell are you talking about?” he asked, voice shaking more than he liked but steady enough at least. “I just wanted to see how well you could read and write.”

The curly haired man froze, a confused expression overtaking his once confident one. For a moment, he faltered before falling back into character. 

“Oh, student/teacher roleplay? I can work with that,” he said, taking a step back (to Will’s great relief). 

“Not roleplay. I-I really just want to see how well you do with that,” Will said, using the opportunity to sidestep and slip away. He gulped down a breath of air now that he had the space to do so. “So that when we got to the office I’d know what we were working with,” he tried to explain. 

The taller man faltered again and Will focused on looking at his freckles instead of the confused expression that had returned. 

“What?”

“They uh, at the facility, they said you could read and write. I just wanted to see how well,” Will said again, voice still shaky but less so now. 

“I… I’m sorry Sir, I don’t understand this game. Can you, can you please explain it to me? Can you tell me what it is you want? I can do it I just- I need to know what it is,” the man said, voice less sure than it had been.

“I want… I want you to read that page and then copy it. And um, if you’re comfortable, type it out? So I can see if you need any help or if there’s a skill that needs attention and work?”

“I’m sorry, Sir, I still don’t understand,” the man apologized, looking a little distraught. 

“Because you’re going to be my assistant,” Will explained, grabbing the notebook and pen. “And it’s Will.”

The dark haired man still looked confused, eyes trained on the pen and paper. 

“Assistant? I- I’m sorry Sir, I don’t… Do you want me to blow you while you’re working? Do you want me to sit under your desk with your cock in my mouth at the office? Is it an exhibitionist thing?” he asked, searching for a request that made sense to him. 

Will almost choked. 

“N-No! Jesus, fuck! I just need some help at work! I was just hired on and as a signing bonus I was given,” he waved a hand at the other man, not knowing how to say this without being offensive. “I really just need a little help at the office is all,” Will said, burning red. 

The other man watched Will, watched him hold out the pen and notebook, apparently trying to evaluate his sincerity. After a moment, the man spoke again. 

“I… I think there might have been a mistake, Sir. I’m not a Personal Assistant, I’m a Companion…” he said, voice soft. 

“I know. I um, I don’t get out much or socialize a lot so I kind of thought you could um… keep me company. That someone specialized in companionship would be helpful,” Will admitted, deeply embarrassed to be voicing aloud that he’d bought himself a friend of sorts. 

The other man blinked at him, surprised. 

“Sir, I-”

“-Will. Please,” Will said again, still putting space between himself and the other man.

“ _Will_. I… Do you know what a Companion is?” the Domestic asked, taking a step back. 

“I mean, isn’t it in the name?” Will asked and the other man smiled sadly. 

“I mean, yes. It could be but… We’re more specialized in _carnal_ companionship.”

Will flushed deeper as the words sunk in. Oh fuck. Will had never been more embarrassed in his life. No wonder the company wanted a deposit for Will to test the man out, see his skills. No wonder Barb gave him such a… knowing look. Will had leased a fucking sex slave. 

He felt a little sick. 

“I understand if you’d like an exchange, Sir. I’m not what you’d intended when you entered into a contract,” the thin man said, turning his eyes away to look at the floor. 

No. No, absolutely not. Will was not going to call the agency and tell them he’d been so naive and ill informed that he’d accidentally gotten the wrong kind of Domestic. There was _no way_ he was going to make that call and explain that to anyone. He’d just, he’d deal with it. Okay, so a few people knew about the contract but weren’t they obligated to keep it private? Client confidentiality and all that? Besides, it was a kindness, wasn’t it? If Will didn’t return the other man, he’d be spared abuses he might otherwise suffer if he was leased by someone else. Will set his jaw in determination. 

“Can you read?”

“Yes.”

“Write?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then I’m not trading you in,” Will said, pushing the notepad and pen towards the dark haired man. “Sit down. I still need to know if your handwriting is legible.”

The taller man looked at Will like he didn’t quite believe him but sat after Will motioned to the chair again and whispered ‘please’, trying to show sincerity. Will took a breath to steady himself and lay out the paper he’d printed off earlier in front of the tall man. It was a copy of an email. The man looked at it a moment before glancing back to Will. Will motioned to the paper. 

“Can you read that?”

“Yes.”

“Can you read it out loud? Just so I can see?” Will asked, still trying to calm his thumping heart. 

The man hesitated, still glancing at Will before turning to the paper in front of him and clearing his throat. 

“Mr. Byers, this email confirms your recent payment of 146.37. As soon as your payment is processed, your policy balance will be updated accordingly. It may take up to three days for your bank to reflect the withdrawal from your account. Your confirmation number is 2SFJ-FD6HB9G9. Thank you for insuring with Gieco. Sincerely, you Gieco service team,” the Domestic said, glancing back up at Will when he was done. 

Will nodded approvingly. It was a short email. Nothing that would be exhausting to copy, especially if the Domestic hadn’t written anything recently. Still, it had complex enough language and the man hadn’t hesitated or stuttered at all, so that was good. Will smiled at the man again. 

“Good. Can you copy what it said into the notebook?”

“Okay,” the man agreed, picking up the pen and glancing at Will again. “Sir, if this is a scene… Can you please just tell me? I just, I don’t know exactly what it is you want.”

Will chewed his lip. 

“I don’t know what a ‘scene’ is, but I just want you to copy the email down. Then if you’re comfortable, type it out.”

The curly haired man stared hard at Will for a moment, his dark eyes locked with Will’s for an uncomfortably long time. Will swallowed again, taking note of the behavior, the lack of immediate compliance. He wondered if that pause and continued questions were what the facility considered grounds for punishment. Eventually the man turned to the paper and began writing. He was a little shaky at first, as if he couldn’t quite recall how to hold a pen or form the words. Will watched from over his shoulder. The handwriting was an interesting mix of print and cursive. It was pretty, if a little difficult to read. It was as if the Domestic couldn’t decide (or remember) how to form all the letters so substituted where needed. When he completed writing, he looked back at Will. 

“That’s great. Do you feel comfortable typing?”

“No. I’ve never used a computer.”

Will frowned a little but decided that must not be unusual for the situation, at least for what the Domestic said his training was in. 

“That’s okay, I can help. Here,” Will said, sliding the keyboard towards the other man. “Just look it over, try and get used to the keys. Type out whatever you want, it doesn’t have to be the email,” Will explained, typing quickly ‘My name is Will Byers’ before taking a step back so there was more distance between the two of them. 

For a long moment the taller man only looked at the keyboard, not even touching it. Eventually, he ran a hand over the keys, feeling them. He began typing slowly, using just his index fingers as he struggled to type a sentence. 

today is april third

No punctuation, no capitalization, and he’d struggled to find the space key, but the man looked at Will expectantly, almost challengingly as if to say ‘There, I did what you wanted. Did you think I couldn’t?’

Will grinned at him. 

“That’s great. That gives us a lot to work with. Are you hungry? Like I said, I don’t cook but I can order in. What do you want? Do you have a preference?”, he asked, feeling uneasy under that steady gaze. 

“No,” the man said, not looking away. 

“Oh. Okay then. I’ll uh, I’ll order something. You can stay here and practice typing. Again, whatever you want. I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”

“Okay.”

“Ok then,” Will said, feeling awkward. 

He turned and hurried away, leaving the other man alone in the office while Will scrambled to escape that intense look. Once alone, Will hurried to his room and closed the door, sinking heavily against it. This was so much more difficult than he’d thought it would be. Will took a shuddering breath and pulled out his phone, considering calling his mom. What would he tell her exactly?

‘Hey Mom, you know how you told me to get a nice assistant? Well, turns out I accidentally got a sex slave and now I can’t even look at him without imagining what he looks like naked and by the way, how can I help teach him how to type and also how can I maybe help him not hate me?’

Cause the man had to hate Will, didn’t he? How could he not? Will didn’t think it was even possible to be in that position, some’s _property_ without hating the person. Will knew he couldn’t make it better, but he could do his best to not make it any _worse_.

Will settled in to order Thai food, getting a variety since he didn’t know what the Domestic, the _man_ would prefer. Will set the table, laying out dishes and bowls, deciding on offering water, wine, cold pressed juice, and milk to drink. Fuck, this was so strange. When the food arrived Will paid for it and took it to the dining room, spreading it out so the other man would be able to look it all over and decide what he wanted. Will hesitated for a moment before returning to his office. 

Apparently the taller man had been busy while Will was gone. He had filled several pages with writing, starting with simple facts (the sky is blue, dolphins are mammals, i am twenty seven years old, my eyes are brown) and eventually ending with retyping the email. There were still no capitalization or punctuation, but Will smiled despite himself and turned to the other man. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Will informed him, still feeling strangely guilty (it’s not like _Will_ had come up with this system or had a choice about it). 

“Okay,” the man said, still strangely still and quiet. 

“Well… Come on. Let’s go eat.”

He watched the freckled man stand and Will led the way to the dining room. He sat, expecting the other man to do the same. Instead, the curly haired Domestic stood quietly at his side, hands hanging loose. 

“You can sit down,” Will said, looking up at him. 

To Will’s great alarm, the man did just that; he sat on the floor next to Will’s feet, hands folded neatly in his lap. Will stared at him until the man looked up, face unchanged from that placid, unreadable look. 

“I-I meant at the table,” Will said, not sure what to do. 

“I’m sorry, Sir. My last Master preferred that I sit on the ground at his side, so he could hand feed me. Is this undesirable to you?” the man asked, watching Will squirm in discomfort. 

“He made you sit at his feet? Like a pet?”

“Yes Sir.”

“I-I set a place for you,” Will said, voice just this side of cracking. “Please don’t sit on the floor.”

The man looked at him. 

“I’m sorry, Sir. You’re a first time owner. The facility didn’t give me any information on expected behavioral parameters. I apologize if I make you uncomfortable.”

“Please just, just don’t sit on the floor,” Will said again, wishing he could sink into his chair and disappear. 

Slowly the man rose and took a seat across from Will. He stayed there, waiting quietly and looking at the food and drink but not taking any. Will raised a hand and motioned around. 

“You can have whatever you want,” he tried to explain, taking a water bottle for himself. 

The man watched Will take a drink and slowly reached for a water bottle in turn. He opened it, still watching Will, and mimicked him, only drinking when Will did. Will cleared his throat. 

“Honestly, it’s okay. Take whatever you like.”

The man looked the food over, unsure. 

“I don’t… I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t know what I’d like.”

“Well what do you prefer? Spicy? Sweet? I got a little of everything because I didn’t know. What, uh, what did your last home feed you?’

“Dried fruit and water. And vitamins.”

Will waited, expecting the man to finish the sentence. The other man just looked at him. 

“Is… is that it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Will sat frozen, horrified. 

“What about the facility?”

“Ration bars, Sir. Fully nutritionally stable.”

Will swallowed hard. 

“How… how long has it been since you’ve had anything else?”

“I was with my last Master four years. I’ve been at the facility three months.”

Well that was downright horrifying. If all the Domestic had eaten in years was fruit and ration bars, maybe the food Will had ordered was too spicy, too rich for him to handle. Will pushed a box of rice and container of coconut chicken soup towards him, hoping that would be delicate enough for his stomach to handle. 

“Try this. I’m sorry, I don’t know what will be gentle on your stomach,” Will said, apologizing. “I didn’t know about your dietary habits. I have some fruit in the kitchen. It’s not dried but…”

The man wrinkled his nose in disgust before realizing what he’d done and regaining control of his expression. He looked at Will and accepted the offered food. 

“No, thank you. If I never see a date or fig or apricot again it will be too soon,” he said, cutting himself off and freezing, apparently startled at how freely he’d just spoken and lowered his head to look intently at the floor. 

Will laughed, another nervous sound. 

“Hey, it’s okay. All my dad knew how to cook was boiled eggs and tuna from a can. I still can’t look at tuna salad without wanting to puke,” he said, trying to relieve some of the tension in the room. 

It worked, barely, and the other man glanced back up. 

“My apologies, Sir. It’s just that the thought of fruit isn’t as exciting as it used to be,” the man explained, taking a tentative bite of what was on his plate. 

Will watched him pick at his food, mostly concentrating on the rice. The soup only got a few bites, apparently too rich or too heavy for the other man’s tastes. But the man couldn’t live off rice alone. Maybe Will should order him some nutritional supplements? Will took a bite of his own food. 

“So, do you have any interests? Hobbies?” he asked, grimacing at his own question as soon as it left his mouth. 

God, this was like the worst first date ever. 

“No Sir.”

Will frowned. 

“What do you do to pass the time? You said you didn't have a computer. Are there any TV shows you like?”

“No Sir. I wasn’t allowed a television.”

“So… what did you do all day?”

“Service my Master, or sleep. I read all the books my Master had within the first year, but they were not meant for entertainment. They were instructional literature on how to be a proper Companion. I practiced occasional body weight exercises, but I usually didn’t have the energy for that. The facility encourages light exercise twice daily, so I participated as required when there.”

Will blinked, not sure what to do with that information, and set his fork down. 

“Do you like to read?”

“I’m good at it.”

“No I mean, do you _enjoy_ it? Are there any novels you like? Genres?”

“No, Sir. As I said, all of the provided texts were for informational purposes only.”

Will glanced around, looking at his own bookshelves. 

“I have books here if you want to borrow any of them. Not like, instruction manuals, just novels. Feel free to take any that you want.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Will grimaced again. 

“Will. Please,” he said, still taken aback by the title. 

“My apologies. Thank you for the access to books.”

“You can use the TV if you want. I can show you how to work the remotes.”

The man glanced up, unsure, wary. 

“No thank you. I was told that television only planted seeds of discontent. I’d rather not have any take root. I’d like to please you and I don’t know how useful I’d be if I was discontent.”

Will looked at the other man. Was he? Content? He certainly looked calm enough, if unreadable. Will pushed his plate away, suddenly losing his appetite. The other man paused eating, watching Will. 

“Oh, go ahead and finish up. I’m just going to put some things away. Don’t stop because of me,” Will hurried to say, not wanting the other man to stop eating just because he had. 

It didn’t work. 

The Domestic stood, gathering the dishes while Will took the food. Will wanted to tell him he didn’t have to wash the dishes, but figured he’d be rebuffed. This man was a slave, he didn’t even have a name. Will busied himself with putting away the leftovers and let the taller man wash the dishes without protest before grabbing a bottle of brandy. 

“Do you want any?” he asked, pausing before taking a glass. 

The man gave him a look; one that was too dark for the question he’d asked. 

“Would you like that? Would it please you if I had libations? Got relaxed and loose?”

Will swallowed, heart thumping. 

“It’s not about me, I just wondered if you wanted any,” he said weakly. “To unwind after dinner.”

“If you’d like.”

“I um, I’m going to have a drink and try to do some work on the balcony. I’ll leave the bottle in case you decide you want some,” he said, face feeling hot. “Tumblers are on the cabinet.”

The man looked at him as if expecting further instructions, but Will poured himself a glass and hurried away, leaving the man motionless in the kitchen. 

**

The cool air was a welcome relief to the suffocating constraints of the apartment and Will sunk into a chair, setting the tumbler of brandy aside after taking a long drink from it and pulled out the tablet. At first, he hadn’t seen the value of an app that would let him ‘customize’ his experience, but since the Domestic explained that it had no frame of reference to work with and had reverted back to how it was expected to behave with it’s last master, Will reconsidered. Maybe if he took the time to put in relevant information and preferences the Domestic would adjust his behavior accordingly. Maybe. 

Will started by typing out how the other man was allowed access to books, the television, and kitchen, anything he needed really. Will tried to go into detail, suggesting that the other man use his time to practice reading and writing as often as he could. What else? Will didn’t want to be called ‘sir’ or ‘daddy’ or ‘master’, so he added that as well. He added a note that the Domestic should try out various names for himself, try to find one that he liked. Will made another suggestion about how the Domestic was allowed to talk, speak his mind. Will had gotten him for companionship but so far the other man was quiet, only speaking when spoken to. Will wanted him to feel free to talk, express himself and engage in conversation. 

Eventually, Will opened the other apps, the ones that monitored the Domestic’s health and whereabouts. It looked like the Domestic was in the living room, moving from place to place. Maybe exploring his surroundings? Will moved on to the general health screen, looking it over. 

It was more or less a blank slate, starting from the time the Domestic had been delivered, so no snooping through there to find any hidden secrets. He noted the resting heart rate, seeing it had spiked a few times since arriving. Twice in the office, once at dinner, and once after. Will wondered briefly what caused those but chalked it up to nerves; since his were out of control right now, wouldn’t it be normal for the other man’s to be as well?

Will honed in on the alert settings. He could customize when the tablet would send him an alarm. If anything was amiss, if the Domestics heart rate and vitals were too low, or too high and erratic. Will fiddled with it, wondering how accurate they were. This was the function he’d been hired on to work with, upgrade. Will took another drink from the tumbler. 

He really didn’t have much work to do right now, but had wanted an excuse to escape his close proximity from the other man. Will could have just asked him to go to his room, put him away like a toy back on the shelf but Will didn’t want to do that, _ever_. He’d never be so cruel. Will wanted the Domestic to have free reign of the house, even if it made Will uncomfortable. It couldn’t leave on it’s own accord, company housing had a perimeter set that would send a shock to the collar high enough to incapacitate the man if he tried to leave without Will disabling it first. So the Domestic may as well be able to roam the apartment however long he wanted to. 

Will looked at the boundaries, noticing how they weren’t just around the door, but the windows and balcony as well. They wouldn’t go off unless the Domestic tried to crawl out a window or got too close to the edge of the balcony, and that seemed reasonable considering how high up the apartment was. Will thought about disabling them but found he didn’t have access to permanently disable them even if he wanted to. Annoyed, Will set the tablet aside. 

He rolled his shoulders and leaned back in the chair, nursing his drink and watching the city below. He was seventeen stories up in the company provided housing, in the most posh part of town; it really was quite a view. Will wondered at how his moral objects had been so quickly pushed aside at all these luxurious things and forced the uncomfortable feeling down with another swallow of liquor. 

Will wasn’t like these people. He wouldn’t use his new wealth to hurt others or be selfish. He’d do whatever was within his power to make sure his mom was well provided for and taken care of and that his Domestic was comfortable and happy. Fuck. The other man really needed a name. 

Will polished off his drink and lay back, closing his eyes to daydream and listen to the sounds of the city. When he opened his eyes again, Will jerked, startled to see the taller man standing in front of him. Will struggled to right himself from his slouched position, a little groggy, and blinked. 

“Can, can I help you? Is there anything you need?” he asked, taken off guard. 

“Is there anything _you_ need, Sir?” the man asked, staying motionless.

“No? I’m fine.”

“Do you require my services?” the dark haired man asked, lowering his eyes down the length of Will’s body. 

Will shifted. 

“No thank you, I’m fine. You can uh, you can have some time to yourself,” Will said, disquieted by the look the other man was giving him. 

“Are you sure? I can be quiet, discreet. You’re neighbors would never know.”

Will’s breath hitched and he pulled away a little. 

“I-I’m sure.”

“As you wish,” the man said, lowering his gaze. “May I… is it alright if I take a glass of water and a book from your shelf?”

Will shifted again. 

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the man said, turning to go. 

Will held his breath as he watched the other man leave. Yeah, this was going to be an adjustment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter. I was a little tired when I was editing it so I feel like there might be some mistakes in it that I missed (but hopefully not too many). Kudos and comments are appreciated and as always, take care of yourselves and I'll see you in the next one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will discovers he made an error in judgment that has unintended results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: self harm, suicide attempt, physical and emotional pain, sexually suggestive content.

At some point in the night (Will wasn’t sure when) the tablet started emitting a high pitched screeching that filled the room and jerked Will awake, leaving him totally disoriented and with adrenaline pumping. He shot up, sleep leaving him as quickly as if it had never come in the first place. Will rolled out of bed and stumbled to where he’d left the device on his dresser, feeling awake but heavy and groggy from having a drink earlier that night. He picked it up, trying to determine what was wrong, why the tablet was screaming at him in high pitched tones in the middle of the god damn night. 

The device was flashing red and white, ‘Vital Signs Low! Warning!’ blinking across the screen frantically. Will stared at it, confused. Vital signs low? What the hell had happened? Will grabbed his phone and shoved it into his pocket while trying unsuccessfully to disable the alarm and pulled his bedroom door open. Will took an unsteady step into the hall, stumbling a little as he moved towards the guest room in the dark, limbs still feeling heavy and clumsy.

The tablet stopped shrieking at Will briefly as his phone lit up and vibrated. Will accepted the call and pulled it to his ear, clearing his throat to speak. 

“Hello?” he asked, voice heavy and scratchy from having just woken. 

“Hello, Mr. Byers. We received a distress signal notifying us that your Domestic’s vital signs are low. Was this expected?”

“Expected?”

“Did this occur due to activities where vital signs might be lowered as part of it’s task? Or would you like us to send medical assistance?”

“Yeah, no. I didn’t do anything to him. I was sleeping, I don’t know what happened,” Will explained, disturbed by the implication that _he_ might have done something to mess with the other man’s fucking vital signs. “You’d better send help.”

“Of course, Sir. Right away.”

“Thanks,” Will said, disconnecting the call and pocketing the phone quickly. 

The tablet didn’t resume it’s incessant beeping, apparently having been disabled by the representative that had contacted him. Will quickly disabled his home security system and locks so that the paramedics wouldn’t have to break down his door to get in when they arrived. Will reached for the knob of the guest room, startled to find _it_ locked. 

Oh shit. Will hadn’t even thought to remove the lock when he gave it to the other man, an obvious over sight. He pounded his fist against the door, breaking the silence the alarm had left in it’s wake. 

“Hey, are you okay in there?”

No response. Will felt his heart thump uncomfortably as he started to process the seriousness of the situation.

“Hey, answer me,” he called again, pausing to listen for a response or movement. 

When there was still no answer, Will took a step back and launched himself forward, slamming his shoulder against the door. It took a few tries (the craftsmanship of the company housing was nothing if not suburb) but Will eventually managed to crack the door frame enough to push the door open and get inside. He scanned the darkened room, hand roving the wall to find the light switch, unsure of exactly where it was since it was a new apartment and Will didn’t spend much time in the guestroom. When he managed to get it on, nothing seemed out of place, the bed didn’t even look like it had been slept in, and the other man was nowhere to be seen. What really worried Will was that the bathroom door was closed. 

Will hurried to it, relieved that it didn’t have a lock to keep him out (his shoulder already felt bruised from the first door). When Will pushed it open he recoiled and took an automatic step back, struck by the strong smell of copper in the air. The scene before him took a moment to understand but it became clear enough once his brain bothered to process what it was Will was actually looking at. 

The Domestic was in a reclined position in the tub, head rolled to the side, eyes closed and mouth parted. His bare chest was still (so still) and Will froze until he saw the faint rise and fall there. The lower half of the tall man’s body was obscured because the water was _red_.

Will hurried forward, heart pounding and knelt next to the still man. He reached into the water and wrapped his arms around the Domestic, splashing red water all over the tile floor, his pajamas, his t-shirt, and pulled the other man out of the tub onto the floor and Will’s lap. From the corner of his eye, Will saw the safety razor the Domestic had pried open and broken apart but couldn’t see the blades anywhere. Where were they? Did it matter? There was broken glass on the counter near the sink, partially wrapped in a wash cloth, probably to muffle the sound it had made when it was broken. 

When Will dragged the other man from the tub, he noted the water was still warm. That had to be a good sign, right? A sign that not much time had passed? Will didn’t need to search hard for the wounds, they weren’t hidden. There were two deep gashes on the Domestics arms and the tattoo that showed his designation was cut almost in half. Will glanced around, finding the Domestic’s discarded shirt and tied it as tight as he could, doing his best to make a tourniquet around one of the Domestic's elbows while he looked for a way to staunch the bleeding on the other. He grabbed the wash cloth and shook out the rest of the glass shards, pressing it over the wound and applying as much pressure as he could. 

He looked down at the man in his arms, so still and quiet, and felt out of his mind with fear. Was Will about to watch someone die? Someone he was supposed to be taking care of?

“Hey, don’t do this,” he begged, looking down at the pale (so pale) man. 

The man, unsurprisingly, didn’t respond. Will wondered exactly how long it would take an ambulance to arrive. Will was suddenly glad he’d disabled his security system for the paramedics, he doubted very much that the Domestic could handle an electric shock (especially one designed to incapacitate him) after losing so much blood. 

Will was beginning to shake now, the air conditioning against his wet clothes making him shiver with cold. If he’d been awake, it probably would have been worse for the Domestic. He was soaking, clad only in a pair of briefs. Will reached up, straining to grab a towel without losing the pressure he’d put on the wound but it was a challenge. He finally managed to grab one and Will draped it across the thin man, trying to keep his body temperature up. 

Will waited in frozen horror, the only movements he made his shaking. He kept his eyes trained on the other man’s freckled chest, fully expecting it to stop moving at any moment. When Will finally heard the medics at the front door, his heart started again. 

“Back here! We’re in here!” he called, panic making his voice high.

It was all a bit of a blur after that. The medics came, hauled the Domestic away on a stretcher. One asked if Will needed medical attention because of the blood on his clothes, but he brushed them aside. He accepted the offered ride to the hospital, anxiously watching the paramedics attach an IV to the curly haired Domestic who was as still as he’d been when Will walked in. At the hospital, Will was given a pair of scrubs to change into while the Domestic was attended to. Will waited, numb, for a doctor or nurse to update him. Instead of a medical professional, it was a Noble Synergy representative who sought him out. 

“Mr. Byers? My name is Lucas Sinclair. I understand there has been an incident with unit CPM8908?”

“Yes? How is he?” Will asked, rising to his feet and shaking the other man’s hand.

“Stable. He was given fluids en route and three units of blood upon arrival. The wounds have been stitched up but CPM8908 apparently taped up shards of broken glass and two razor blades and swallowed them. The objects were successfully removed laparoscopically, so there was no need for surgery. We do apologize for this inconvenience, Sir, and we are so embarrassed this happened with one of our products, on your first night no less. We offer sincere apologies and will of course repair any damages to your home as well as offer a replacement product as soon as is convenient for you.”

Will blinked. He couldn’t care less about the damages, but he was concerned with that statement about a replacement. Was the Domestic going to die? Will cleared his throat. 

“Is he… Is he going to be okay?”

“Of course. A few days in the hospital and he will be fine. As apologies, we will of course raise your leasing limit from forty five to fifty five. Again, we are so sorry for this whole ordeal. Your liaison should have made you aware of this Domestic’s history of self destructive and reckless behavior instead of tucking it away into the medical file, so that you could have been more prepared.”

The Domestic had a history of self harm, of suicide attempts? Had… had Will done this? Had he unintentionally put the Domestic in harm’s way by missing the information and giving him too much access to things he could hurt himself with? Will felt a wave of guilt. And why did the representative keep talking about a replacement? Will shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. 

“If he’s expected to make a recovery, why would I need a replacement?” he finally asked, confused. 

The representative looked at Will, apparently startled by the question. 

“I’m sorry, are you saying you’d like to remain in your current contract?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, if he’s going to be okay and all. Does the company require he be returned to the facility under circumstances like these?”

The man looked at Will, his smile still firmly in place. 

“No… Your contract is intact. Though we are offering to break it and allow an upgrade in this case at no penalty to you. However, if your desire is to keep that one…”

“If that’s alright.”

“Of course, Sir. It will however still require hospitalization as per the medical clause of your contract. It can be returned to you as soon as it is given a clean bill of health if that is your wish.”

“It is.”

“Very well then. Might I suggest, as your liaison should have, that you use this time to take the necessary precautions to ensure CPM8908 does’t have access to any more harmful items before it is returned?”

“Of course. Of course I’ll do that,” Will agreed, already making mental notes about what he could do to prevent this from happening again.

“Well then, Sir, I’ll leave you be. We’ll send a crew by tomorrow to repair the damages and remove the lock from the Domestic’s room. As soon as it is in good enough condition to be returned, we will contact you.”

**

Will spent the next two days trying his best to ensure that his house was as safe as he could make it. As promised, the company repaired all damages and even sent a cleaning service for the bathroom as well as Will’s bloodied clothes. Will had told them it was unnecessary, even offered to help, but the Domestics that he been sent to clean shooed him away, insisting they were the best suited for what needed done. 

Will left them to it, making sure to put away all his glassware, knives, locked all the medication and cleaning chemicals away, things like that. It felt weird, like he was childproofing his house, but if he was going to insist the Domestic be returned to him, the very least Will could do was try to ensure it was a safe environment. Will replaced the safety razors with electric ones. Neither one of them would be getting a terribly close shave for a while, but after what Will had walked into the other night… Will could deal with stubble. He could handle looking perpetually like a college student again if it meant the other man wouldn’t be able to take the blades to his wrists or swallow them again. 

God, why had he _swallowed_ them? That couldn’t have been easy to do but… if Will had found him earlier, stopped the bleeding on his own and hadn’t accepted medical help… would the Domestic’s stomach acid would have eaten away at the tape leaving only the blades and shards of glass? Would he have been cut up and bled out from the inside? Was the man so desperate to escape that _that’s_ how he was willing to let himself die? Will couldn’t imagine it. 

Will glanced at his phone, checking the time. The confirmation email he’d received had informed him that ‘the package’ would be delivered between eleven and twelve and it was already twelve fifteen. Will chewed his lip, worried.

It was a relief when the intercom finally buzzed announcing Barb’s arrival and Will had to verbally remind himself to refrain from waiting in the hallway. When the knock finally came at his door, Will opened it and ushered Barb in, glancing past her to see the tall Domestic being escorted by another man who had a strong grip on his elbow. Will turned his attention back to Barb who was speaking to him. 

“My apologies for the delay, Mr. Byers.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Is everything okay?” Will asked, still watching the Domestic being brought into the apartment. 

The taller man was stumbling a little, like his feet were too heavy and he was having trouble balancing. The man who held his elbow was in a smartly dressed suit and was pressing a hand into the Domestic’s back, helping him stand straight. The curly haired Domestic blinked, dark eyes unfocused. 

“Is _he_ okay?” Will asked, turning back to Barb. 

“Yes, Sir. The product was a little unruly during transport. He’s been given a light sedative to ensure his compliance. Nothing to be concerned with.”

Barb reached into her purse and extracted a white pharmaceutical bag and a folder and handed them to Will who stared at them in confusion. 

“These are prescriptions for the sedative and anti anxiety medications. There are three refills available, but if you need more, we will of course provide them at the next medical examination. Feel free to administer them as needed until CPM8908 is more manageable. The sedative is in a syringe so it is fast acting, but CPM8908 is rather adverse to needles, so I suggest having the correctional device on hand,” she said, smiling brightly. “ The folder is his discharge file. Where would you like him deposited?”

“Just- the couch is fine.”

Will watched as the tall Domestic was led to the couch and encouraged to sit on it. Will clenched his jaw and squeezed the paper bag and folder between his fingers as he watched the man flop down, eyes still foggy. Will looked at Barb, still put off by all of this. Barb extended her hand and Will took it automatically even though he was beginning to dislike her a little. 

“Please feel free to call us with any questions at any time,” she reminded him before exiting, leaving Will to stand uncomfortably in his living room looking at the expressionless man on the sofa. 

The Domestic’s wrists and forearms were bound with clean, tight bandages, hiding what he’d done to himself beneath. His dark eyes were heavy and clouded, his curly hair styled neatly, a strange contrast to how disheveled and dazed he looked. Will sat on the loveseat across from him and looked over, wondering if the other man even knew he was there or where he himself was. Will cleared his throat.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

For a moment, the man didn’t respond, didn’t even act like he’d heard Will. Slowly, he rolled his head off of his shoulder and tried to focus his vision on Will. 

“You really scared me, you know? I uh, I didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

The man blinked, still trying to focus. He opened his mouth to speak but didn’t seem to be able to form the words. Will shifted, turning his attention back to the folder in his hands. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk. I’m gonna take a look at what they gave you, okay? Just uh, try and rest. Can you walk to your room or do you want to stay on the couch?”

The taller man tried to speak again but all he was able to make were strained sounds. The man furrowed his brow in what looked like frustration and struggled to stand, a pained expression on his face. Will reached out a hand to settle him, to indicate that it was okay. The other man made another attempt to stand, barely making it more than two inches off the couch before falling back. 

“It’s seriously alright. Just rest. I’m gonna read what’s in here for a while and then we’ll see how you’re feeling, okay? I need to figure out what to do about all this,” Will said, indicating the folder and then the Domestic. 

The other man looked at him, eyes more focused now. He looked confused and angry (and a little afraid). Will shifted and looked down at the folder, uncomfortable with the look in the Domestic’s eye. He picked up the folder, flipping it open to read it. It was all the medical charts and discharge files with aftercare instructions. Will took about fifteen minutes to read it as thoroughly as he could, determined not to miss anything this time. Once he was done, he picked up the prescription sheets to see what they were. It looked like the prescriptions were for lorazepam and pentobarbital. Will raised an eyebrow and glanced into the bag. Okay, wow. Those were a lot of sedatives. 

When Barb had told Will about the anti anxiety medication Will had expected wellbutrin or trazodone or something long term to help the Domestic's mental state, not fast acting, addictive drugs meant for short term use. Apparently the company didn’t care how the Domestic actually _felt_ as long as he was compliant. Will picked up a vile of the pentobarbital and looked at it. As far as Will knew, this was something they gave you for surgery or to stop a seizure. He set it aside and looked at the vile and pills and swallowed hard. Had the Domestic been double dosed with both barbiturates and benzos? That would explain why he was so out of it, having trouble standing and even speaking. Will stared at the medication and swallowed, mouth feeling a little dry, heart rate increasing a little. There were three months worth of prescriptions here. He needed to lock them up so the Domestic didn’t use them to hurt himself. Will might have considered throwing them away, but what if he needed them (for the Domestic, not himself)? Will shoved the medication back into the bag and glanced over at the taller man. 

To his alarm the freckled man’s eyes were closed and for a moment, Will’s heart stopped. Will stood, walking over to the other man and looked down, eyes trained on him. His heart restarted it’s rhythm when he saw the rise and fall of breath in the Domestic’s thin chest. 

Okay, this was fine. The other man was just asleep. And why wouldn’t he be, double dosed like he was. The tablet hadn’t set off any alarms, nothing was amiss. Will sat again and pulled up the app that monitored the Domestic’s heart rate and cortisol levels. There had been a spike in both the night Will had found him in the tub but much earlier than Will had made his discovery, right around the time Will had sent the other man away from the balcony. Had that been when he found the razor? The tape he’d used? It hadn’t spiked again until after Will had left the hospital. Was that when he’d woken and realized he’d been unsuccessful in his attempt?

Will’s eyes wandered again, noticing another spike around eleven thirty. That must have been when he realized he was being sent back to Will rather than the facility. Will hated the thought but maybe the Domestic had been so afraid to go back to him because of something Will had done. What was it? Will didn’t know.

He hadn’t been cruel (so far as he knew). He hadn’t raised his voice or used the correctional device, so what had it been that made the Domestic panic so much at the thought of being returned to Will? Will looked at the heart rate monitor. It was holding steady at forty nine beats a minute, a little low for Will’s taste but the tablet wasn’t beeping a warning and the man was breathing so Will set it aside. 

Will looked over at the other man who was now deeply asleep. Will should move him, at least position him so he was lying down so he didn’t wake up with a sore neck or back. Will did his best to move the other man as gently as he could, nearly waking him twice, but the sedatives had their hold on him and he stilled quickly once Will stopped touching him. Once satisfied with the job he’d done, Will picked up the prescriptions and moved away to his office. He wanted the Domestic to sleep as long as he wanted, so Will decided on giving him quiet and privacy. Will set up an alarm on the tablet to alert him when the Domestic woke and started moving again and he set to work, continuing his research on how to interact with the other man and how to make his existence less of a misery, so he wouldn’t try again to take measures to end it.

**

Three hours and two glasses of Reisling later, the tablet chirped softly, letting Will know the Domestic was stirring. Will glanced at the device and silenced it before closing out his tabs and put the computer into rest mode. Will had scoured the internet, ending up posting a question to Reddit and hoping that someone would be able to offer some insight or advice. Will jerked in alarm when he heard a pained cry and what sounded like something crashing to the floor. 

As fast as he could move, Will navigated through the apartment until he found the cause of the sounds. 

The tall Domestic was writhing on the ground, clutching his throat and the carpet in tandem. His back was arched up at what looked like an painful angle and his heels dug into the floor as he rolled, halfway out of the front door. Will stared, mouth agape for longer than he should have before realizing what was happening. 

The man had tried to run. 

Will bent, grabbing him by the ankles and began dragging the thrashing man as far as he could towards the foyer but the man let out a terrified cry when he was grabbed and kicked wildly, trying to dislodge Will’s grip on him. Will tightened his hold and pulled harder, trying desperately to get the man out of the hall and away from the perimeter, only releasing him once the squirming and pained sounds faded. Will circled around and fell to his knees to watch the freckled man on the ground who was panting and still kicking his feet weakly. 

There was sweat pouring from him, his dark brown eyes wide in pain (and panic) as he clawed at the collar around his neck. His neatly styled curls were a mess from the fall and from being dragged across the floor, his lips shook as he struggled to draw breath. The skin around the collar was red and looked burned. Will sat back, trying to give him space. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat and surging adrenaline. 

The man craned his neck back to look at Will fearfully. His brown eyes were red rimmed and tears stained his face. The man licked his lips to wet them and speak. 

“I- I’m sorry, Sir,” he croaked, voice harsh and gravely with pain. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Will asked again, alarmed by the apology. 

“I’m sorry. Please, Sir, please. I’m sorry,” the man said, trying to clear his throat. “Please, Sir, don’t correct me again. I swear, I won’t run. I’m sorry.”

Will blinked, startled by the plea. He looked down at the man, at his burned skin and red eyes and fearful expression and thought he might be sick. 

Will instinctively reached for him, wanting to comfort him but the taller man closed his eyes tightly and flinched away. Will dropped his hand and scooted further away as the other man began to speak again. 

“I was just scared. I’m sorry, Sir. I shouldn’t have attacked you, kicked at you. Please don’t shock me again,” the man said, voice steadier now. 

Will sat back, unsure what to do or say. Did the Domestic think Will had electrocuted him just now? Hadn’t anyone told him about the security system being set to go off automatically unless it was manually disabled? Maybe the Domestic hadn’t lived in company housing before (it _was_ state of the art) and he didn’t know what would happen if he tried to leave. Will sat back, falling onto his rear. 

“I- I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered, voice shaky. “You’re okay.”

The tall man looked up at Will, eyes still red and watery and struggled to move. Will tried to scramble back to get away from the other man who was clinging to Will’s clothes, his jeans, the hem of his shirt. The other man was openly weeping, _kissing_ Will’s hands and chanting ‘thank you, thank you sir’ over and over. Will was utterly repulsed by the display of gratitude the other man was giving him and couldn’t calm his thoughts enough to speak at first. Will tried to detach himself from the hands that clung to him. 

“Hey, stop that. Please,” he begged, throat tight. 

At his words, the man released him but stayed in a genuflecting position, wide eyes looking up at Will, awaiting further instruction. Will swallowed down the revulsion he felt and fought the growing lump in his throat. Jesus, fuck, this was awful. Will couldn’t turn away from the man nor could he bear to keep looking at him. Will closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. 

“Please stop. I’m not going to hurt you. Please, _please_ don’t act like that,” Will whispered, eyes still closed. 

Will heard the man shift and let out the breath he’d been holding once it was clear the other man wasn’t going to touch him again. When he opened his eyes, the freckled man was kneeling, looking down at his shaking hands that he’d folded neatly onto his lap. He still had sweat around his brow and salt stains on his cheeks from the tears of pain, but he looked less hysterical and he wasn’t trying to touch Will or beg him not to hurt him anymore, so that was an improvement. 

“Um, are you okay now?” Will asked, not sure what to say. 

“I- I’m fine, Sir.”

“Will. My name is Will,” he tried to remind the Domestic as gently as he could. “You really scared me,” he laughed. “Twice now.”

“I’m sorry. I… I’m sorry,” the man said, not raising his eyes but the shaking in his hands was spreading to his arms and legs.

“Please stop apologizing. Do you… do you need to lie down? Can I bring you ibuprofen?”

The other man glanced up at him, expression calmer but something in his eyes betrayed his racing thoughts. The Domestic looked back down and paused before speaking.

“If you like.”

Will gritted his teeth. 

“Okay. Look, can you just… can you just go to your room and lie down? I’ll be in in a minute. I just, I’ll be there soon, okay? Just go lie down.”

The man blinked at Will, face going neutral as he listened to the request. 

“As you wish.”

It was strange, like a switch had flipped in him. The man rose unsteadily to his feet and moved in the direction of the room Will had given him. Will watched him go, amazed that the simple request had worked. Maybe after a lifetime of being trained to follow commands, it was just easy to revert back to it (but it hadn’t been an order, had it? Not really.), maybe even comforting. The man had acted uncomfortable, unsure when Will had simply _suggested_ things on the first day. That direct request seemed to do the trick, at least he’d responded to it. 

Will waited until the dark haired man was gone before he got to his own feet. God, what a horrible experience the last three days had been. Will went to the kitchen to gather what he thought he needed; a water bottle, four ibuprofen, two tylenol, a toasted bagel with cream cheese on the side (the Domestic had to be hungry by now), a vitamin supplement, and an ice pack. Will paused in his own room to grab some triple antibiotic ointment and burn spray before turning to head toward the guest room. He knocked on the door to announce himself and pushed it open. What he saw made his heart leap into his throat and he took an instinctive step back. 

The man had done exactly what Will had told him to, kind of. He was laying on the bed, comforter draped across his waist, chest bare and visible to anyone who might have walked in. He was spread eagle, his ankles and wrists trapped in padded cuffs and attached to rope that seemed to stretch out beneath the mattress of the bed, a restraint set that he’d apparently set up with the rest of his belongings on the first day. How had Will not noticed them? Did the Domestic tuck them under the mattress when.. When they weren’t in use? Were those things… the ‘accessories’ Barb had mentioned the Domestic would come with? Will froze in the doorway, almost dropping the serving tray he held. 

The man looked at him, dark eyes heavy, and twisted, tugging at the restraints which didn’t give an inch. 

It took Will a moment to find his voice, face flushing red and blood traveling straight to his groin at the sight and sound the restraints made (the little squeak of resistance when the Domestic pulled on them). He composed himself enough to speak and quickly averted his eyes. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, refusing to look at what was happening on the bed.

Will heard the other man shift again and dared a glance. The man was adjusting himself, using his restrained wrists to pull himself up into more of a seated position, the comforter riding dangerously low on his stomach. 

“Whatever you like, Sir.”

Will looked away again. 

“Can you get out of that?” he asked, trying to avoid the uncomfortable eye contact that waited for him if he looked up again. 

“Not on my own, Sir. I’m at your complete disposal,” the man said, pulling on the restraints again as if to prove the statement true. 

“How… Did you even get into that thing?”

“Ankles first. One wrist, then the other,” the man explained, wiggling suggestively, the show of enthusiasm not reaching his eyes.

“So you can’t get out of that?” Will asked, trying to clarify.

“Not without help.”

Great. Perfect. 

Will tried to keep his eyes averted as he walked closer, setting the tray on the nightstand. He glanced at the bound man briefly, trying to determine how the restraints were attached. It looked like he needed a key. Fantastic. Will tugged on one restraint in frustration and the man on the bed shuddered, raising his chest and hips as he breathed heavily. Will looked away again. 

“Can you stop that please,” Will asked, keeping his eyes turned away as an uncomfortably hot feeling rose under his collar. 

The movement stopped abruptly and Will took a breath, moving towards the foot of the bed to look at the ankle restraints. They were much the same as the wrist ones, padded cuffs that needed a key. Will looked up again. 

The tall, lanky man was lying still as he could, fingers curled to his palms in relaxation but his eyes didn’t match his posture. No, those were intent, trained on Will, watching him quietly and trying to evaluate the situation. Will cleared his throat. 

“Where’s the key?”

“Bedside drawer.”

“If I unlock one wrist can you do the rest?” Will asked, eyes focusing in on one slender foot that peaked out from beneath the comforter.

It was long, almost delicate looking, with manicured toes and the soles of his feet barely calloused. Did the facility do that, maintain all aspects of a Domestic’s appearance, or was it something the other man had done because it was something he enjoyed?

“I… can unlock the rest. As long as I have one arm free.”

“Okay. Good. Um, give me a second to grab the key and I’ll uh, I’ll get you out of there,” Will said, edging towards the end table. 

He pulled the drawer open and paused again. Of course the drawer was filled with sex toys; cuffs, various types of lube, a _ball gag_. Was that a cock cage? What the fuck was all of this stuff? (What would the Domestic look like with that blindfold on?) Will tentatively reached in, searching for the key. On the bed, the man shifted, watching to see what Will would extract. Would it be the key or would he get distracted, change his mind and emerge with a whip maybe? Will pulled the key free and reached for the man’s bound wrist. 

Will turned it as gently as he could, trying not to bother the wound on the man’s wrist as he twisted the key in the lock. When it popped open, Will noticed a hint of pink soaking through the bandage. Had the cuffs been so tight they irritated the wound? Will shot a look at the other man. He hadn’t winced, hadn’t acted like it had bothered him. If anything, he looked as placid and unreadable as ever, if a little astonished that Will had actually uncuffed him. 

Will dropped the key into the man’s now free hand and turned away. 

“Um, get yourself out of there and get dressed. I’ll be outside. Get me when you’re done.”

“Okay.”

Will quickly excused himself, hoping his face had had the decency to not betray him as he hurried out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I might have had too much going on in this chapter, but it is what it is, so I hope you liked it anyway. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated. Be well and take care of yourselves.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will tried to help and take the first steps towards trust. Will continues to make unsettling discoveries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: past abuse. Referenced substance dependency/abuse and related behaviors.

Will waited patiently outside of the closed door and tried to calm his racing thoughts. Why was the Domestic acting like this? Will had told him he didn’t need to, on that first day, hadn’t he? Will had thought he’d explained it as clearly as he could, that he only needed an assistant and that the other man didn’t have to offer sex or make himself… avaliable to Will in that way. Will didn’t _want_ a living sex doll, something to stick his dick in whenever the mood struck him. He had perfectly good hands and plenty of internet access for self relief. 

Maybe he hadn’t been quite clear enough, maybe the other man thought Will wanted him for both services rather than the one Will had actually intended him to provide? Will thought about how he’d have to add these details to his reddit post and hope for some insight, he couldn't have been the only person to accidentally repurpose a Domestic (could he?). And in all honesty, Will wasn’t sure how long he could handle this overtly sexual behavior before he let his frustration overtake him and he snapped at the other man.

It wasn’t something Will wanted to do or planned on, but his nerves were beginning to fray and he worried that he may eventually do it (shout at the other man or lash out in frustration). Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly through his nose, just like the therapist had taught him. Ten seconds in, ten seconds out. _Stop letting your mind race, concentrate on your breathing._ His fingers twitched and Will wished he had a klonopin on hand instead of locked in his desk drawer. Maybe he should start leaving them in hidden spots around the apartment, tucked away where the Domestic couldn’t find them but that would be easily accessed if Will needed one. It was something he’d done in college with his adderall. His roommate had had sticky fingers so Will started tucking pills away in the breast pockets of his shirts and beneath the base of his desk lamp. Will didn’t need them all the time; just when he had an exam or needed to cram all night for a particularly difficult class. The thought briefly crossed his mind as to whether or not he could get another prescription, but his last doctor had cut him off once school had ended. Will thought back to the phenobarbital the Domestic had been prescribed and wondered if the prescribing physician would be open to writing a script of adderall for the Domestic if Will said he needed it. They seemed awful loose with the controlled substances at the facility. 

When the door behind him cracked open, Will glanced over his shoulder. The Domestic was dressed now and waiting for him, eyes downcast. Will breathed a sigh of relief that the other man was fully clothed like Will had asked rather than some half disrobed state, and he turned back towards the room. Will stepped in, slipping by the other man who took a step back to let him by. 

“Thank you. Do you mind sitting down? I brought some things I thought would help,” Will said, indicating the serving tray he’d initially brought with him. 

“Of course, as you wish,” the freckled man replied, moving towards the bed to sit still and quiet while Will walked past him. 

Will looked him over, anxiety fading and flaring in consecutive waves the longer he did. Both wrists had bled through the bandages and the once white cloth was a little dislodged from the cuffs. Will made a note to get the first aid kit for fresh gauze and medical tape when he was done seeing to the other man’s neck. He turned and picked up the water bottle and pills, holding them out for the taller man who extended his hand obediently to accept what was given to him without question. He did it so easily, no hesitation. It would have been easy to get the other man to take whatever Will gave him (aside from what would need to be administered with a needle) and that bothered Will who turned to pick up the burn spray and antibiotic cream. When he turned back, the man was swallowing the pills and was looking at Will expectantly, eyes no longer trained on the floor.

“Can you scoot a little closer and turn your head please? I want to look at those burns. From the collar,” Will explained, trying to keep his voice even and low so it didn’t seem like an order or like Will was having as much trouble controlling his nerves as he actually was. 

The man shifted and turned, tilting his head forward to expose the angry red skin for Will to see properly. Will stepped closer and looked the wound over, hesitant to touch it. He tentatively positioned the burn spray, watching the vein in the other man’s throat pulse and jump and watching the other man twitch from sensation as Will worked. 

“Sorry if it’s cold,” he apologized but the other man didn’t speak so Will continued his work in silence, trying his best to coat the area as completely as he could.

This was the first time Will had been close enough to the taller man to get a good look at the device around his neck. It looked like it had a hinge and there were in fact, four, not three chrome rings around it. There was what looked like an electronic lock on the back and Will felt a flare of annoyance that no one had mentioned a code he could use to release it. The inside of the collar had half a dozen metal prongs that were almost totally flat but still pressed against the freckled man’s skin gently. It looked like that’s where the electric currents that had shocked the tall man originated from as the skin beneath them was actually starting to blister. It was difficult to clean around the prongs, especially without pressing too hard, but Will tried his best to be gentle and thorough, worried about scarring or infection. The taller man was pliant under his touches and Will hurried to finish as quickly as he could. 

Once he was done, Will took the other man by the wrist and turned it over to examine, immediately regretting that he hadn’t asked first. The curly haired man offered both arms up without question, eyes calm as he watched Will unwrap the bandages. The stitches were intact but irritated and Will winced at the sight of how swollen they were, still leaking blood. Will cleaned them as best he could with cotton swabs, applying the cream to the delicate, thin forearms with q-tips. The stitches looked small, well placed, like a plastic surgeon had done them. Was that something that had actually happened, to keep up the Domestic’s appearance, or was Will imagining that? Even the bisected tattoo with the Domestic’s designation looked like it had been touched up, so it was legible despite the wound. Who would go through the trouble of repairing the damaged tattoo when controlling the blood loss and removing the razors and glass should have been the priority?

Will shifted from one foot to the other before finally speaking again. 

“Why did you do that?” he blurted out, not having meant to speak. 

“Sir?”

“It’s Will. And I mean, why did you do that? Tie yourself up. I didn’t ask you to...” Will said, voice soft. “So.. why did you?”

The other man didn’t speak for a moment, trying to decide on his words. When he finally did respond, the answer gave Will pause. 

“I… was trying to apologize. I know you’re angry with me for what I did and that you asked them to bring me back here for a reason instead of returning me to the facility and… I was just trying to please you. I was afraid when I woke up, and it seemed too easy to just... I didn’t know what you’d do, so I tried to run. I’m sorry about that, I’ll never do it again, I swear. I didn’t know if the shock when I tried to leave was… was all you’d do,” he tried to explain. “I just wanted to… please you. I’m sorry that I caused you inconvenience and that I still am…” he said, looking down at his wrists that Will was cleaning for him. “I’m sorry. What can I do to apologize?” he asked, lowering his eyes. “I… you didn’t seem to do anything when I was out, and then you sent me to the room, to the bed… I thought I was doing what you wanted.”

Will stared at the taller man, horrified. 

“That shock… I didn’t do that. It’s- it’s an automatic system. I didn’t, I _wouldn’t_ do that to you. Of course I didn’t touch you when you were drugged. For fuck’s sake... And I’m not going to _rape_ you because you got scared and tried to run,” Will said, throat tight. “I’m sorry that happened, the shock, I mean. And I’m sorry if I did something to make you feel like you needed to… to do that so I wouldn’t hurt you,” Will whispered, motioning to the restraint set and lowering his own eyes. “I don’t know why you tried to um… do what you did that night but I’m not angry or anything. And I get it, being scared and wanting to bolt. So I’m not going to hurt you because of it.”

Will set the antibiotic cream aside and the man next to him stirred a little, making Will glance up. The curly haired man was looking at Will like he was searching for something and Will looked away again. 

“You don’t have to do any of that sexual stuff, you know. That’s not why I chose you,” Will added, wanting to make that clear since he’d apparently failed to do that the first time. 

“It has to be a perk though, right?” the man asked before quieting himself and looking firmly at his feet, realizing he’d spoken so bluntly (and out of turn). 

Will hesitated. 

“Look, I didn’t know what a Companion was when I picked you but I really do mean it. I don’t need you to do any of that. And I don’t want you to feel like you need to fuck me to keep me from hurting you. I’m not going to do that, hurt you I mean. I just need help with work and someone to talk to so I don’t need any of that other stuff,” Will said, having trouble voicing his thoughts. “So… you can talk when you want to and you can stop the rest of that,” Will finished, face flushing. 

“Don’t you find me attractive?” the man asked, apparently taking the ‘feel free to talk’ statement to heart, even if he ignored the sexual aspect of Will’s request.

Will blushed and heard himself laugh. The other man kept looking at him, unflinching as he waited for a reply. 

“I mean, you’re obviously a good looking guy,” Will said, still laughing a little, deeply uncomfortable. 

“Do you want to fuck me?”

The laugh died in Will’s throat and his hands kept doing that fidgeting thing he did when he wanted to bolt. Instead of picking at his cuticles, Will picked up the water bottle and turned it over to keep his hands busy, a therapeutic technique his therapist had suggested to keep his nail beds from bleeding all the time. 

“No. No thank you.”

“Why?” the man asked, still looking at Will with interest and a little bit of confusion.

_Why? What kind of question was that?_

Besides the fact that Will didn’t want to force sex on an unwilling partner, Will was pretty sure the other man hated him enough as it was without _that_ being added to this man’s unfortunate life circumstances. He looked up, making brief eye contact with the tall Domestic. 

“I- I mean, you’re a person. I barely know you. Even if I wanted to be sexual with you, shit, shouldn’t I at least buy you dinner first?” Will asked, trying to defuse the situation with a joke while peeling the label off of the bottle. 

“You did. You bought all of me.”

Will froze, the label half rolled between his fingers. Yep. There it was. Will owned another person and there was no dancing around it. He looked away and took a step back. 

“Um, don’t move, okay? I have to get something but I’ll be right back,” he said, taking another step away. 

Will wished it took him longer to retrieve the first aid kit, that he had more time to himself before returning to the other man, but it felt dishonest and rude to leave the other man waiting for him while Will dragged his feet. When he did head back to the guest room, kit in hand, the taller man was still seated exactly where Will had left him. Will set to work rewrapping the wounds, not speaking, hoping the conversation had died when he left the room. It seemed to work as the other man didn’t speak again. The skin felt warm and was still raised in irritation from the cuffs so Will taped the gauze as loosely as he dared to. Once the gauze was in place, Will set the tape aside and started wrapping the taller man’s arms, loose enough for the wounds to breathe but tight enough to keep the gauze protected. When he was satisfied, Will released the other man and took a step back. 

“I was serious, you know. I want you to feel like you can talk when you want to. I don’t know what I did that made you feel like you needed to run or… you know, but you can talk to me. If you want to. Or not, don’t feel pressured either way. Just like… like you’d talk to other Domestics at the facility. I- I kind of hope that we’ll be able to trust each other eventually. That you’ll be able to trust me,” Will corrected, hoping it sounded sincere and not manipulative. 

The seated man looked at him, dark eyes focused and intense. 

“I didn’t talk to the others.”

Will faltered, looking down at the first aid kit and flipped the latch open and closed. 

“They didn’t let you talk to each other?”

“No. Not really. Socialization was discouraged so we wouldn’t form connections. We were rotated between units and buildings every few weeks so we didn’t get familiar enough to form attachments.”

“So you didn’t have any friends?” Will asked, still fiddling with the latch. 

“No. Familiar faces but people came and went.”

People. The Domestics were _people_. And they weren’t allowed to make friends or express themselves or even have names. What a lonely existence. Will clicked the latch closed again and shifted his weight. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, trying to take the first step towards trust and understanding. 

“Talk about it? What’s there to say? We existed near each other but I honestly don’t remember anyone’s designation or temperament.”

Will hesitated. _Weren’t you lonely? Didn’t you want to scream? Is that why…_

“What about your last placement? Were than any other Dom- was there anyone you could talk to there? Others I mean…”

The tall man blinked slowly, considering the question. 

“There were others but I was put away when I wasn’t needed, so I didn’t speak to them often.”

Put away, like a doll.

Will shifted again. 

“Well, you’re allowed to talk to me. If you want to. Just like, about whatever’s on your mind. I’m not going to… to put you away. I’m not like that,” Will said, voice still soft. “I’m not like the, the last person you worked for.”

The curly haired man kept his eyes trained on Will who clicked the latch again. After a moment the man looked away, choosing not to speak. Will hesitated before glancing at the food he’d brought and motioning to it. 

“Eat what you can and try to rest a while. I don’t know how long it will take for the meds to work their way out of your system, but I’ll be back in a while. I just have a few things to do, so feel free to try and get some more sleep, if you want it.”

“Alright.”

Will shifted again before closing the latch of the first aid kit and letting his hands drop to his sides. He left the room, closing the door behind him and hoping that the Domestic would actually take the opportunity to rest this time. 

**

Will considered calling the Noble Synergy customer service with his queries but he was beginning to question their methods and treatment of Domestics in general, so to the internet it was. The answers the internet provided him were not _exactly_ what Will hoped they would be and he took them with a grain of salt. The suicide attempt wasn’t suprising to anyone who read his post (the leading cause of death for a Domestic was homicide, followed closly by suicide), so many people voiced their thoughts from the safety of the anonymity the internet provided. 

_**Just let him do it. Trade it in. Keep dangerous things locked away. Why are you bothering? Have you thought about therapy for him? You really haven’t fucked it yet? Are you an idiot?** _

Mostly Trolls, but a few people had real advice to offer. Apparently some Domestics would commit the act by voluntary starvation and dehydration if they couldn’t get their hands on anything more effective, so it was important to make sure the other man kept himself fed and hydrated properly. Will also found that he might be confusing the other man about his role in the household by denying the Companion his intended purpose. If Will was unwilling to let the Domestic fulfill it’s designated role, he’d have to provide the other man with something more substantial than note taking around the office or risk having the Domestic be confused and feel devalued. If it had experienced it in the past, the Domestic might assume that Will was playing mind games and come to the conclusion that Will would turn on a dime and punish him for some perceived slight or another. The Domestic was likely to be on edge for a while, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Will hated the thought, but he could see the reasoning behind it. If he’d spent his whole life being used for one thing and one thing only, having someone _reject_ that skill could certainly cause confusion and heightened anxiety. He might wonder _why_ he’d been rejected and try _harder_ to prove his value and worth. Someone even suggested Will take the other man up on his offers and advances from time to time, until he’d settled into the new role Will had given him and accepted it as a valid substitute for his original purpose.

The one thing most people seemed to agree on was that there needed to be structure in place, a routine. Will would need to step outside of his comfort zone and actually start instructing the other man in what was expected of him and when. Will read everything he could find and tried his best to absorb the information. He could do this. At least he could try. 

Maybe if he gave the Domestic something to do, something to keep his mind stimulated, he’d be less unhappy. Will had tried to ask about any hobbies but the only thing the other man had offered was that he could read and wasn’t allowed to watch television. When Will had asked him to type before, he’d written a few facts about himself, so maybe journaling? A way to express himself after years of not being able to, not having anyone to talk to. Maybe a way to stimulate his imagination?

Will waited until around six before he returned to the room. When he finally did, he knocked quietly before entering. 

“You okay in here?” he asked, cracking the door open and watching the taller man roll onto his side and slip out from beneath the covers. 

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Will looked at the tray he’d brought earlier, seeing the bagel only half eaten and the cream cheese untouched. Will turned his attention back to the taller man and held out the book he’d brought from his shelf. 

“I brought you something. Here,” he said, offering it out. 

The taller man accepted the book, turning it over in his hands to examine it. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are you hungry?” Will asked, eyes darting towards the forgotten food on the tray. 

“No thank you, Sir.”

Will grimaced a little but kept his reaction as controlled as he could. 

“You didn’t eat the bagel. Was it too much?”

The other man shifted, glancing at the food and then at Will, concern clouding his eyes. His mouth was drawn in a tight line as he looked at Will, and his shoulders slumped a little. 

“I’m sorry, it was just… too heavy. My stomach hurts,” he tried to explain, apologizing that he hadn’t finished the food Will had given him. 

Will shifted his weight, choosing to ignore the discarded bagel, trying to show it was of no concern to him and shouldn’t be enough to cause the other man distress. He picked the tray up and shrugged. 

“It’s fine. I’m going to order dinner soon, maybe you’ll have an appetite when it arrives. Do you want to be alone to read for a while? Would you rather practice typing?”

“What would you like me to do? How can I be of service?” the tall man asked, rising to his feet. 

Will took a step back, considering the question and how to answer it. 

_Okay, just give clear direction, let him know what you want. Be gentle but firm. Structure matters. Okay._

“I want you to practice typing for an hour. You can write whatever you want or copy from the book if it’s more comfortable for you. I want to get you feeling good using the keyboard. Do you have any suits?” Will asked, suddenly aware he hadn’t actually ever looked at the other man’s wardrobe. 

The thin man blinked at him, surprised. 

“No.”

“That’s okay. I’ll order you some. Right now, go ahead and go to my office, I’ll get you set up in there until food arrives and we’ll have a late dinner, after your stomach settles. Take the book with you,” Will added, trying to project the confidence he didn’t actually feel. 

The curly haired man seemed to respond well to that, another direct request. Will didn’t know if he should celebrate or cry as he watched the Domestic stand, picking up the book that was given to him and waiting for Will to lead the way to the office. Once he was set up with another word document, Will moved away and out of the room to give him space. Will waited a few minutes before passing by again, glancing in to see if the other man was doing what he was asked (he was). Will sighed, relieved but also disquieted. He moved away towards the kitchen to set about ordering appropriate work clothes for the other man. 

**

Will felt a bit better once some time had passed and he’d gotten a chance to get used to the other man, used to how he worked and how to speak to him. The Domestic spent his days typing and reading and there (thankfully) hadn’t been any more incidents like the ones that had occurred the first few days. His typing was improving slowly but surely but the speed at which he read was incredible. He’d managed to go through four books in three days and Will was beginning to wonder if he had enough novels to keep the man occupied for more than a few weeks if this was the rate at which he read. Not that Will was complaining, not at all. In fact, it was nice to see the other man enjoying himself and he’d occasionally even share his thoughts with Will unprompted. 

The suits, blazers, and shirts had arrived early Saturday and Will took them to the guestroom while the taller man practiced his typing in the office. Will laid the clothes out in a neat line on the bed which was as immaculate as it always was. Will always waited till the afternoon to make his own bed, doing it first thing in the morning just sounded like too much of an invitation to get back beneath the covers instead of starting his day, but the Domestic seemed to have no such qualms. In fact, every day since his arrival, the taller man was awake before Will, and waited quietly in either the kitchen or the living room for instructions on how the day should go. 

Will lay out the belts and ties on the pillows, wondering at the number of them as he set the ties down. Was a pillow missing? Shouldn’t there be four, not three? Will chewed his lip. Maybe he’s never set the right amount to begin with. It seemed strange that the Domestic would keep everything but _that_ immaculate. It was most likely an error on Will’s part.

Will returned to the office once he was done laying out the clothes, knocking on the door lightly to announce himself but paused the knock to watch. The tall, thin man was typing away, pausing only to fiddle with the ear buds Will had given him. Even when he didn’t have a book in hand, the curly haired Domestic liked to listen to stories so Will had given him an Ipod to download audiobooks on. Will was sure the other man would like television if he gave it a try, but the Domestic avoided it like the plague, maybe still thinking Will was trying to trick him in some way. Will waited quietly, just watching until the other man looked up and noticed him. The man took a moment to pause whatever it was he was listening to so he could hear Will speak. 

“Do you mind coming to your room? The clothes arrived, I just want to make sure they fit and don’t need any alterations or anything,” Will said, shifting his weight and fiddling with the loose lorazepam in his pocket. 

“Of course.”

Will led the way but stopped in the doorway, watching the taller man step in and examine the clothes that were already laid out for him. He looked over at Will and raised an eyebrow, silently asking what was wanted of him. 

“These are for you. Just uh, can you try them on? Let me know if you like them or if you want anything returned or anything? Different colors?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” the freckled man said, immediately moving to pull his shirt off at the request. 

Will turned away, embarrassed by the Domestic’s lack of modesty. Though, if Will was being honest, being raised and groomed as a Domestic, it wasn’t surprising the other man lacked that socially ingrained shame at his own nudity and disrobed so easily. Will kept his eyes locked on the hallway wall until the other man spoke, drawing his attention back. 

Well, at least the other man wasn’t nude, Instead, the Domestic stood motionless in his undershirt and briefs, looking at Will expectantly. Will averted his eyes and picked up a set of trousers and a light blue button down shirt, handing them to the other man. He waited, taking notes about what blazer combinations went well with what slacks, what vests worked well with what shits. Will was suddenly glad he’d bought belts because for as well as the clothes fit lengthwise, the slacks were a little loose around the taller man’s waist. 

After the third change of clothes, Will was comfortable enough to actually touch the other man, assist him in dressing, Their fingers brushed when they exchanged garments and when the taller man shifted, leaned into Will’s personal space, the programer withdrew a little. 

“Okay, these all look great. I’m glad. I was kinda worried they wouldn’t be ready by Monday but you’re all set. Let’s get them hung up so they don’t wrinkle,” Will said brightly, hurrying towards the closet with a suit jacket in hand, wanting to put distance between himself and the other man. 

Behind him, the Domestic made a strangled sound, an attempt to speak but Will was already at the closet with his hand on the knob. He pulled it open and looked down, puzzled at what he saw on the floor. 

It was a confusing sight. The missing pillow was there along with an extra blanket, a desk lamp plugged into a wall socket, a water bottle, and two books. Will blinked down at the sight and turned to look at the freckled man who stood frozen, watching Will, mouth agape. Will laughed nervously and motioned to the collection of mismatched items on the closet floor. 

“Have you been sleeping here?” he asked, certain he must be wrong. 

“I-” the Domestic started, looking unsure. “It’s… It’s comfortable,” he stuttered, trying to explain himself while shifting his feet, eyes wide and fearful. 

Will turned back to look at the little space the man had carved out for himself in the closet, confused. 

“Comfortable? On the floor?”

“Yes. I- I don’t need a lot of space,” the dark haired man tried to explain, still looking nervous and like he was about to bolt. 

Will stared at him, totally befuddled. 

“You… You have the whole room. You don’t need to sleep in the closet,” Will said, that nervous laugh escaping his lips again. “What the hell is all this?”

“Are you angry with me?” the freckled man asked, wilting more and more the longer Will looked at him. 

“What? No, I’m just confused. Is the bed not comfortable? Is there something in the mattress you’re allergic to? I can have it replaced…”

The other man looked away, breaking eye contact to look down at the bed. 

“No. The bed is fine. It, it just feels secure in there, in the closet,” the man tried to explain. “Small, enclosed, safe.”

“What do you mean? You don’t feel safe here?” Will asked, distressed to hear that. 

“No Sir. I mean yes, I do. I feel safe. It’s just that my last Master, he liked me to sleep in a crate. I just got used to the enclosed space and now it just… feels better. To have the walls on all sides.”

Will stood still, smile frozen in place from being so startled by the statement. 

“A crate? Like an apple crate?” he asked, searching for clarification. 

“No, like for a great dane or pyrenees,” the other man said, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to be discussing. 

_Ah, of course. A dog crate, how silly of me to assume you’d be treated like a human and be given an actual bed to sleep in at night. What a foolish thought indeed._

The way the man had said it, like it was supposed to make Will _feel better_ in some way that he was given a _dog crate_ instead of a wooden box of some kind. It didn’t. If anything, it made Will feel worse. Had someone actually locked this man in a _dog crate_ like he was an _animal_ , for _four years_? Jesus Christ, no wonder he had trust and anxiety issues. No wonder he tried to sit at Will’s feet to be fed like a pet. He’d been treated as one for _four mother fucking **years**_. 

Will swallowed down the revulsion he felt and thumbed at the lorazepam again, heart beating a little fast and feeling out of sync. He reached for a handful of hangers and when he turned back to the other man, Will forced on a smile as cheerful as he could, desperate to keep the other man calm and assuring him Will wasn’t angry (well, not with _him_ ). 

“Well, I mean, as long as you’re comfortable. But um, just so you’re aware, you really do have this whole room. It’s yours. I’m not gonna change my mind and suddenly flip out and make you sleep in a dog crate or anything,” Will said, laughing. “So uh, you can spread out and relax. Don’t feel like you have to sleep in a closet because I’m not like that… that’s not who I am.” _Not who I want to be_

Will trailed off, smile faltering a little as he tried to reassure the other man (and himself).

When Will looked across the room, the taller man was gazing at him steadily. 

“No. It’s not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a little rough on the editing, I typed it earlier this week and was trying to edit it on my phone at work (cause who wants to actually work? Not me). So forgive me if it’s a little patchy in places. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated. Take care of yourselves and I’ll see you in the next chapter


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will starts work and quickly finds himself in over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: graphic sexual content, dub con, mood altering substances

Sunday morning was as quiet as it always was now that the two of them had fallen into a routine (of sorts). The Domestic woke early as was typical for him and curled up to read on the balcony, taking in the morning sun while Will dozed until after seven. Will didn’t mind having a near stranger awake in his home while he slept on, not really. It took him a few days to even realize that the other man _always_ woke before him because the slim Domestic had initially taken to staying in his room until he was called upon, _that_ made Will uncomfortable. He didn’t want the other man to feel like he had to stay hidden, put away until he was needed (especially after discovering the Domestic slept and lounged in the _closet_ ).There were other things that bother Will as well. The way the Domestic hovered by the balcony door, looking out but not once trying to open it or even ask permission to do so... that bothered Will too. 

So Will set up a timer, a program to automatically unlock the balcony door at five am every day. He was seventeen stories up, the chance of a break in was pretty slim and what harm would it really cause to have that door unlocked when Will wasn’t awake? After the electrocution incident on his first day back, Will had explained to the Domestic the boundaries that had been set up by the company. When Will had told him about the bounds around the railing of the balcony, the Domestic had looked upset (though only for a brief moment before regaining control of his expression). Had he been thinking about jumping? Will didn’t think so. It seemed more like the taller man just genuinely wanted to see the sun and get fresh air and was afraid to do so now for fear of what waited if he got too close to the railing. 

So Will showed him the program, explained the exact parameters in detail so the freckled man would know how far he could go before he got hurt. Will showed him the locks, the timer he’d set, explained how the door would unlock in the morning, and offered him the space, the time to himself to enjoy the balcony even when Will wasn’t awake. The Domestic hadn’t smiled, not exactly, but he’d had that strange look on his face that Will had started to associate with the expression the other man made when he was pleased and trying to hide it. It was the same one he’d given Will in the office, the first time he’d typed anything (he must have enjoyed that then, right? If Will was right about what that look meant). The tall man didn’t need to smile, Will understood him and knew he’d been right when he began to wake to find the other man on the balcony, curled on the wicker recliner, book in his lap, and water bottle on the steel table next to him. 

Will didn’t want to disturb him, didn’t want to take that privacy away from the freckled Domestic, so Will fell into the habit of cooking breakfast first (unsalted eggs, almond milk, dry toast, nothing difficult) and only then would he intrude on the other man to offer him food. They’d eat together and then each return to their individual activities until lunch. It was nice, almost comforting to have a routine, no matter how mundane it was. When it rained, instead of hiding in his office, Will would set up in the living room across from the Domestic who lounged on the sofa, book or ipod in hand, and worked. Will had gotten most of what work he could get done before ever stepping foot in his new workplace within the first three days, so he spent a good amount of time posting questions and reading threads online to fill the rest of his time. 

Though there was a good amount of dispute about exactly how Will should handle the situation he found himself in, one thing was almost unanimously agreed upon; the Domestic needed a name and he needed it before Monday. Will didn’t want to do it himself, that felt to akin to having a pet. He’d suggested the man try out names for himself but Will had no way of knowing if his request had been heeded as he never asked (and the other man never offered the information).

Will glanced up from his laptop to watch the man across from him. The slender Domestic was laying on his back on the sofa, knees propped up with a book spread across his thighs. His dark eyes were focused on the pages, darting back and forth across them so quickly Will wondered if he was actually retaining any of what he read. Will cleared his throat which caused the man to glance over at him and sit up immediately when he saw Will looking at him. 

“Yes? Do you need my services?”

“No, nothing like that. Have you, um, have you given any consideration as to what you want to be called? A name?” Will asked as he leaned forward to watch the Domestic. 

The tall man ran his fingers along the spine of the book and then over the pages, considering. 

“I- I’m not sure.”

Will sat back, trying to show a relaxed posture, to show there was no pressure (even if there was). 

“No thoughts?” he coaxed, trying to draw out the answer as gently as he could.

“Well, a few,” the man admitted, glancing down.

“Can you tell me?” Will asked, relieved at least that the freckled man had given it some thought. 

“I was thinking… Mike.”

Will blinked. It was so… simple. Will always thought that if he ever got to pick his own name it would be something big and dramatic: Ozymandias, Azaziel, Theon, Mithras perhaps... But maybe to the Domestic even a simple name like Mike was special, a way to distinguish himself in a world of numbers and designations. The man looked away when Will didn’t immediately speak. 

“You don’t like it.”

“No, it’s not that,” Will hurried to assure him. “It’s just… what made you think of that, of Mike?” he asked, trying to show interest, to draw the Domestic back from the withdrawn state he was starting to fall into at the perceived displeasure Will was showing for his chosen name. 

The other man glanced down at the book in his hand. 

“I um, I finished ‘The Andromeda Strain’ and liked it a lot. I saw you had other books by the same author and I just… I liked his writing,” the dark eyed man explained, voice soft, apparently embarrassed. 

Will didn’t want him to feel like that, especially for something as special, as meaningful as choosing his name, so he shifted to see the book from a better angle. 

“‘Jurassic Park’ huh? Michael Crichton is a good author. There’s a second book, you know. If you like the first one, I could pick it up for you.”

The taller man made that face, the one where he was happy and refusing to show it.

“I like the name, by the way,” Will added as he leaned back into the seat again. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.”

“So. What do you think you’d like for dinner, Mike?” Will asked, watching the other man for a reaction. 

The Domestic, the man, _Mike_ glanced up, started at being addressed that way. His cheeks (and eyes) looked a little red and he cleared his throat to answer. 

“I… I don’t know.”

“Come on. Anything you want, to celebrate,” Will insisted, smiling with pleasure. 

“I… I used to like salmon. I think,” the dark haired man said, face still reddening from repressed emotion. 

Will smiled again. 

“I’m sure I can make that happen.”

**

Monday morning Will felt nauseous, sick with anxiety. He couldn’t get his hair to lie flat, couldn’t get a close enough shave with the electric razor, and couldn’t settle his stomach enough to eat. He settled for drinking a glass of the protein supplement he usually saved for Mike and popped a lorazepam, hoping it would settle his nerves. Will had already broken a klonopin in half and wrapped the pieces in a tissue to keep pocketed it just in case (baby doses, nothing that would knock him off his feet or make him sloppy his first day at work. Just enough to get by without a panic attack).

_Shit. Fuck._

What if Will wasn’t good enough for the position he’d been given? What if it had been a mistake and he was outclassed in every way? The interview hadn’t been particularly difficult, but even there he felt out of his league, like a sophomore in highschool applying to college. Yeah, it was _possible_ that he landed the position on merit alone, but it felt like one big mistake. No, he couldn’t think like that, it was self sabotage. It wasn’t like Will would be on his own, thrown into the deep end with rocks tied to his ankles (even if that’s what it felt like). He’d been hired as a member of a development _team_. The newest and least experienced member to be sure, but he’d have coworkers and supervisors to help get him up to speed. And he’d have Mike with him, to be a familiar face and keep him organized and calm. Will would be fine. 

He almost dropped his glass (thank god he’d switched out all the actual glassware for plastic) when a sound behind him drew his attention. 

“Si- Will. I didn’t know what blazer you wanted me to wear, so I have both,” Mike said, holding two jackets up for Will to see as he entered the kitchen. 

Will looked over at the tall, lanky man as he approached. Mike was wearing a pale blue and violet striped shirt tucked into coal grey slacks that were cinched around his waist with a shiny black belt. He’d combed his curls back as neatly as he could, forgoing the mousse he might have used to hold them in place (they’d be wild and free before lunch Will was sure) and his five o’clock shadow stood out against his pale skin as starkly as his freckles did. He looked at Will expectantly, still holding the jackets for the shorter man to see. 

“The uh, the dark blue one,” Will said as he lowered his gaze to look at the glass still in his hand. 

“Does it need a tie?” Mike asked but Will didn’t look back up. 

Will thought about it for a moment. Could Mike even wear a tie around the collar? It wasn’t particularly thick or bulky, the shirt he wore buttoned over it easily. But how comfortable could it be to have something else on top of it, constricting Mike’s breathing even more than it already was?

“The grey one, to match the pants. If it’s comfortable,” he added, making sure the Domestic knew he was allowed to forgo the tie entirely if he wanted. 

“Okay,” Mike said, turning and exiting the room, both jackets still in hand. 

Will released the breath he’d been holding and gulped down the rest of his drink. This would be fine, Will was fine. Will looked down at himself and frowned. Why had he picked a _pink and blue_ plaid shirt? He looked like a kid on their first day of kindergarten playing dress up. He tugged at the hem of his own blue jacket and fussed with the tie, wondering if he should change but knowing he didn’t have the time to. He was saved from his thoughts when Mike returned again, jacket on and tie in hand but not wearing it. He held it out for Will to see, an embarrassed look on his face. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t… I don’t remember how to do this,” he explained, looking down at the object. “It’s… it’s been a few years.”

Will blinked, not entirely surprised to hear that but unsure what to do. 

“Would you like me to show you? Or just do it for you?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Will stepped forward to take the tie from Mike’s extended hand and reached up, lacing it around the taller man’s long neck. Mike shifted, relaxed his shoulders so the jacket could slip down them and grant Will more access to loop it around and under the collar of his shirt. Will wasn’t used to being this close to the other man, to touching him. Mike stood still, letting Will work and kept his head turned to the side so his breath tickled Will’s hair and ear. Will tried to work fast, pulling the knot into place to adjust it and felt his knuckles brush against Mike’s stubble. Will withdrew his hands, let them drop without tightening the knot, leaving it far looser than he typically would. 

“You can adjust it from there. I don’t want it to be too tight,” he explained, taking a step back and looking away again, uncomfortable with how much he wanted to linger near the other man. 

“Okay,” Mike said, reaching up to adjust it himself. “Does this look alright?” he asked, shrugging the jacket back into place and smoothing it out. 

“Yeah, looks great,” Will admitted, looking Mike over. 

It really was a nice combination, nicer than Will’s for sure. Will still felt foolish in his, especially compared to Mike (who in their right mind buys a pink tie as something other than an ironic statement?). The light and dark colors contrasted well with Mike’s light skin and dark features. Will was glad that at least _one_ of them looked good. Mike looked every part of the administrative assistant, he’d fit in perfectly in an office environment even if Will stood out like a sore thumb. Mike looked like an actual adult, a professional, like the kind of boss who’d call you into his office for a talking down after you fucked up and give you a trashing and-

Will looked away again and dug his nails into the palm on his hand, concentrating on the biting pain rather than his wandering thoughts. 

_Stop that. Stop it right now._

“Are you hungry?” he asked, looking back up to watch the slender man fiddle with the hem of his jacket where the sleeves met his wrists, making sure it hid the bandages there. 

“Not really.”

Will might have let it go, let it slide as just nerves on Mike’s part if it hadn’t been for what he read about Domestics harming themselves by withholding food and water. Mike had a history of self harm and he was so thin… Will frowned and pushed the canister of protein powder towards the taller man. 

“Drink some anyway. I don’t know what our schedule is going to be once we get to the office and I don’t know when you’ll get the chance to eat again.”

Mike picked it up without protest and moved toward the cabinets to get a cup. Will felt a little guilty at how quickly Mike followed the direction. He didn’t do it often, but every time Will told the other man to do something, it was done without question. Will watched Mike from the corner of his eye as he rinsed his own glass in the sink as he struggled to push away the guilty feeling. 

“Are you nervous?” he asked, trying to make conversation. 

“Not really. I’m kind of excited,” the curly haired man replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I haven’t been anywhere other than the facility and the hospital in a long time. I’m kind of looking forward to getting out.”

Will felt another pang of guilt. He hadn’t even thought about that, that aspect of Mike’s life. Should Will have been taking him places? Just because Will was kind of a homebody who preferred to hide in his own apartment instead of be anywhere else didn’t mean Mike was. If his only option was being stuck in the same place with no way to leave on his own accord, wouldn’t Will be bored out of his mind, excited even for work too?

“Hey, do you want to stop at the library after work? We can pick up the next book in the Jurassic Park series. Or whatever you want, it doesn’t have to be that,” Will added quickly, testing the water to see how receptive Mike would be to that idea. 

The dark haired man brightened a little. 

“I’d enjoy that. Thank you.”

Will felt a swell of warmth watching the freckled man’s reaction. He’d have to make more of a conscious effort to make sure Mike had time away from and out of the apartment. Mike finished his drink and stepped next to Will to rinse his own glass out. 

“Are you ready? We should leave soon,” the curly haired man said, glancing down at Will. 

“Yeah. I’m ready now.”

**

The first day went well, all things considered. Will met the rest of the development team and even though the team leader (a man named James Dante) was a bit of a jerk, Will didn’t mind; he didn’t have to be friends with everyone. Will was given a workspace that accommodated both Mike and himself, near but not encroaching on the rest of the team. No one batted an eye at Mike’s presence or acted like he was out of place in some way. In fact, most people seemed to have a Domestic with them, helping them. Most seemed strictly professional, if familiar, but one or two seemed almost affectionate. Will wondered if it was real or just a behavioral parameter requested by the owner. 

Will worried that Mike would feel constricted, out of place in the office but he didn’t seem to. He settled in and wrote notes, and even had time to wander around and stretch his legs. Will hoped Mike might have a chance to speak to the other Domestics, maybe even make friends, but the thin man seemed to avoid them altogether (Will couldn’t imagine why though). Near the end of the work day, Will even got to meet the department head, a dark haired man named Anthony (‘call me Troy’) Walsh. He seemed friendly enough if a little overbearing. At least he seemed interested in what Will was working on, how he was settling in, that sort of thing. He even stood behind Will, leaning over his shoulder to watch Will set up his station, make sure the apps were installed and working correctly. It only bothered Will because it was a bit of an invasion of his personal space and Mr. Walsh’s humor seemed a little on the cruel side (he had made jokes at team member’s expenses and he and James seemed to have a bet between them about who from the team would be the first to be fired at the end of the quarter) but all in all, not a bad day. 

Will made good on his promise to Mike and took him to the library after, letting the man browse at his leisure. It was almost sweet, watching the freckled man walk up and down each row, even the teen and graphic novel sections. He took his time, just looking at everything, picking up book after book and turning them over in his hands to think over and decide whether or not he would enjoy it. The way he took his time, the way he made each decision seem like a precious gift… Will was reminded that Mike hadn’t had a lot of chances to make choices before, even ones as simple as what book to borrow from the library.

Will was grateful that his card let him check out up to ten books at a time because Mike couldn’t seem to narrow down his choices to any less than that and Will ended up carrying half the stack for him (maybe Will should get him a tote bag or one of those reusable grocery bags). Mike seemed pleased enough though, seemed satisfied with the day even if he didn’t smile or react beyond a polite ‘thank you’. 

The second week was harder. Will felt the pressure now that he’d been brought up to speed and it was crushing. The snide jokes between James and Troy made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the way they’d pass and eye his work while they talked, like they were talking about _him_... Will would be the first one fired, he just knew it. He was the newest one, the least experienced, the most expendable. If he fell behind, he was done. 

Some of his coworkers lived in the same building as Will and a few brought work home with them. Will had thought he’d be able to stay ahead and on top of his game because of his determination alone. Obviously, that wasn’t the case. They wanted Will to work for his salary, his perks, and his position? He could do that. He _would_ do that. 

The Friday of his third week, four glasses of zinfandel deep and no closer to completing a particularly difficult program he’d promised himself he’d finish before Monday, Will decided to call it quits for the night. He pushed his laptop aside and let out a breath of frustration and defeat. Mike glanced over at him from his seat on the office couch and pulled out his head phones. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m going to have an early night though. There’s uh, there’s a chinese take out menu on the fridge and um, here,” Will said, pulling out his wallet to put a stack of cash on his desk. “This should cover whatever you want. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Of course,” Mike agreed, rolling over to sit up.

Will gave him a half wave and made his way towards his bedroom. He pulled his clothes off, letting them fall to the floor instead of taking them to a laundry basket, stopping only to fish out the lorazepam from the breast pocket and swallow it dry, not wanting it to go to waste if he forgot to retrieve it in the morning. He was going to the dry cleaner’s tomorrow anyway, it didn’t matter if the clothes wrinkled on the floor tonight. Will stood in front of his vanity and stared at himself in disappointment. His eyes were dark and flat from exhaustion and he was breaking out a little from being too tired to do his twice daily skin routine (wasn’t he supposed to grow out of having acne once he was an adult?). He sighed and splashed his face with water before grabbing his face wash and heading towards the shower. He could multitask. Hell, he was starting to become something of an expert at it by now. 

Will let the water hit his back, freezing cold for the first thirty seconds or so before it warmed and steam filled the room. He scrubbed himself clean while he fought back the anxiety and fear that threatened to overtake him. He could handle this, he could complete the coding and his job would be safe. Mr. Dante and Mr. Walsh weren’t going to fire him, what would have been the point in hiring him at all if that’s what they were planning to let him go immediately? Will was going to be fine, he just needed some sleep and he would start fresh in the morning. 

Will toweled himself dry and pulled on a loose fitting pair of Star Wars themed pajama bottoms, foregoing the t-shirt since the wine and the hot water left him warm enough as it was. Will climbed into his bed and pulled his comforter up around his chest, clutching it close as he struggled to control how overwrought he felt. 

Fuck, this felt terrible. Will didn’t know if he’d be able to sleep at all even with the lorazepam. He felt torn, afraid, and upset with himself for not immediately excelling. Will released the comforter and reached for a pillow, wrapping it between his arms and pressed it to his chest as tight as he could. He took a moment to try and compose himself but it was of little use considering how worked up he was. The shuddering breath he held escaped him and Will buried his mouth and nose into the pillow to muffle the sound as it was joined by a fat tear that rolled unbidden down his cheek. Will wiped it away quickly, annoyed at himself and tried to suppress any other tears that might try to escape. 

Valiant of an effort as it was, it didn’t work. Will tried to choke them down as quickly as they came, frustrated and angry that he’d drunk too much and lost control like this. How pathetic, how absolutely stupid and pathetic to be drunk and crying over a stupid job where so little was expected of him that even members of his own team still had trouble remembering his name. Will buried his face in the pillow and screamed, trying to force as much of the unwanted emotion out as he could, like a priest forcing a demon out during an exorcism (but much less theatrical since Will was just as pathetic at Latin as he was at controlling his emotions). But his demons fought back and Will hadn’t practiced his scripture; the tears kept coming so hard and fast he could barely breathe. 

Will barely heard the knock on his door, didn’t even really register what it was over his own crying. What he did register was the dip in his bed from Mike’s weight when he sat on it and placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. Will rolled over, dislodging the touch on his shoulder as he did and rubbed his eyes across the back of his freshly cleaned arm. Once he was sure he didn’t have tears or mucus on his face, Will blinked up in the dark at Mike, vision still blurry. 

“Sir, do you require my services?”

“Mike. No, I'm fine. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I wasn’t asleep. I heard you and… you sounded upset. Are you alright?” the taller man asked, not moving from his seated position on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so loud,” Will apologized, voice a little hoarse (and slurred) as he rubbed his eyes quickly. 

“Can I help you?”

“No. I’m just stressed about work. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you like me to help you relieve some stress?” Mike asked, touching Will’s shoulder again. 

Will froze for a moment at the touch, surprised by it and it’s accompanying question. He pulled away, moving deeper into his bed to put space between himself and the tall Domestic. 

“No thank you. I told you, I’m fine. You don’t need to um, do that.”

Mike sat quietly for a moment, unmoving, just watching Will before he spoke. 

“We don’t have to have sex, I know you didn’t choose me for that. You already told me. I could just hold you for a while, until you feel better.”

Will thought about it, half tempted to accept before he shook his head ‘no’. It wasn’t that Will wasn’t attracted to Mike (because, as he was reluctantly starting to accept, he very much _was_ ). It was because he was afraid that if Mike climbed into bed with him, sexual intent or not, Will would react to it. 

“I- I don’t think so.”

“Everyone needs human contact. I could hold you for a while,” Mike said, leaning forward to push a strand of wet hair away from Will’s face. “I could give you that. That skin to skin contact. If that’s something you want…” he trailed off, letting his fingers trace down Will’s bare arm, drawing gooseflesh in their wake. “I can take care of you.”

Will closed his eyes, knowing full well that the alcohol and benzo was clouding his judgement in that moment. He didn’t shrug the touch away (even though he should), didn’t tell the other man to go. Instead, Will let the freckled Domestic trace his fingers up Will’s arm and back down before exhaling the breath he held. 

“Okay. Just for a while though.”

As soon as the words passed his lips Will felt a sinking sensation of dread. This was a mistake, he couldn’t take advantage of the other man like this, use him as a living security blanket. Will wanted to take them back, those words, and roll away or hide in the bathroom. He froze instead as Mike slipped beneath the covers and lay down, using his thin hands to encourage Will closer instead of further away. 

Will let himself be pulled, tried to ignore the thumping of his heart and the anxiety that tried to claw it’s way up and choke him. He ended up on his side, facing the taller man, hands curled close to his chest, still clutching the pillow under his chin and used it as a barrier as Mike settled in around him. The taller man eased down and lay on his side, using one arm as a pillow while the other wrapped itself around Will. His fingers traced patterns over Will’s shoulder slowly, softly. Will pressed his eyes closed and tried to relax, hyper aware that he was nude from the waist up. 

Mike still wore his work slacks and undershirt but had removed his button down, tie, and belt. He used his long torso and legs to wrap around Will, ignoring the pillow as he brushed his socks against Will’s bare feet even as the shorter man tried to squirm away. Mike shifted and tugged Will closer despite his efforts to get away and sighed. 

“Relax. I’m here to help. And lose the pillow, you don’t need to hide from me.”

“Sorry. I don’t know how relaxed I can be,” Will apologized, feeling ridiculous in this situation. 

Mike shifted again and tugged at the pillow which Will reluctantly released. 

“Just… close your eyes. You can pretend I’m someone you like. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”

Will opened his eyes and glanced up at Mike who had his own closed. The freckled man looked relaxed, sleepy even. 

_I do like you. Not like… like that but… I like you. Your company and your voice. Is that enough? Do I have to pretend you’re someone else or can just mild affection be enough? Is that what you do, when you’re… working?_

Will watched Mike who kept running a hand over Will’s bare skin and Will had to admit, it _did_ feel good. Will closed his eyes again and tried to get lost in the feeling, the touches, the actual human contact. Mike was warm and heavy and solid against him and Will did feel better, less emotional. 

The alcohol and benzo were finally doing their jobs and Will felt the tension slip away and leave his body one gentle touch at a time. God, how long had it been since someone had held him? Junior year of college? The summer after? Will didn’t know, but as he let his mind wander to past experiences, past intimacies, and the feel of being held and touched, he felt a heat pooling between his legs. 

Will squirmed and shifted his hips back and away to keep them from pressing against the tall Domestic but Mike halted the movements and pulled him even closer. Will winced and wanted to vanish into thin air as his erection brushed against the other man’s stomach. He was beyond embarrassed and he cringed at the contact even as Mike drew him closer. Maybe Mike wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t know what it was, would overlook it. 

He didn’t. 

Mike slowed his touches against Will’s shoulder until they halted all together and moved his own body closer instead of pulling at Will until the shorter man’s cock brushed against his stomach again. Will gritted his teeth, angry at himself. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s normal,” Mike said, starting the gentle strokes of his fingers against Will’s shoulder again and moving towards his back. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Will wanted to believe him, wanted to be comfortable and okay with this, but he wasn’t. He shifted again to pull away as Mike moved the arm he’d been using as a pillow to creep between their bodies, fingers hovering at the base of Will’s stomach, but above the hem of his pants. Mike moved, bumped his chin against Will’s forehead. 

“Do you want me to touch you?”

Will hissed and held his breath, unsure if he could say ‘no’ to this but unwilling to ask, to _order_ the other man to touch him. He hesitated. 

He did. He _really_ did want someone to touch him, to give him that intimacy he’d been missing. Hadn’t some of the advice he’d read say that this was something he should do, take Mike up on his sexual advances from time to time as a way to help him feel valued? Will didn’t know if he believed that. It felt too much like just taking advantage of the situation, of _Mike_ and his conditioning to offer sex regardless of whether or not _he_ actually wanted it. Will swallowed hard and tried to clear his cloudy mind. 

“Only if you want to.”

That seemed to take Mike off guard and he paused. 

“Sir?”

“It’s Will.”

“Will. Do you want me to help you? To… relieve you?”

“I’d be lying if I said ‘no, I don’t want to be touched’, but I’m serious. I only want you to do things you want to do so I don’t want you to feel pressured or forced into anything. I’m a grown up, I can um… relieve myself,” Will said, sure his skin was the color of a candied cherry from how hot he burned. 

He didn’t want to have these kinds of talks but if he’d learned anything about Mike, it was that he had to be direct and clear with what he wanted or expected, otherwise the other man could misinterpret him. 

The curly haired man was very still for a moment, considering what Will had said. When he moved again, it was to cup Will through his clothes and massage him, making Will let out a sound of arousal and surprise. Will lowered his head, ashamed of the sound, of how needy it was. He pressed his mouth against his knuckles to muffle the sound and tried to control the feelings that accompanied it. 

Mike didn’t seem to mind at all. Quite the contrary; he seemed to almost _respond_ to it. He continued to massage Will, even let out a sigh as he gripped the other man through the fabric, squeezing his shaft with one hand as his other continued tracing circles over Will’s bare back. 

“Does that feel good?” Mike asked, pressing his chin more firmly into Will’s forehead. 

Will squirmed, embarrassed to be asked such a thing. Of course it felt good, did he really have to say it out loud? Mike didn’t seem to need Will to vocalize it more than an appreciative moan as he palmed Will heavily, thumbing the hem of his pants. Will felt fuzzy, foggy headed and slow. Was he supposed to be touching Mike too? Did Mike even _want_ Will to? 

“You work so hard. Need someone to take care of you?” Mike asked, voice husky and dark. 

Will shuddered, remind of that first day, of how Mike had offered to bend him over the desk and fuck him silly, how he’d offered to take care of Will, treat him good. Will nodded, letting his head bury itself beneath Mike’s chin, into his neck, against his rough stubble. The taller man moved, tugged Will’s pants down his thighs and set the programmer's straining cock free. He took Will in hand and held him loosely, testing the feel of him. 

Will should touch Mike too, shouldn’t he? So this wasn’t just one sided, selfish, _taking_? Will twisted, tried to get his hands low on the other man only to be stopped by a gentle but firm grip on his wrist. 

“No. This is about you,” Mike said softly but with a commanding presence. 

“You… you don’t want me to…?” Will asked, frozen in obedience at the statement. 

“I want to take care of _you_. You said you’d let me, so just let me,” Mike whispered, rolling Will’s foreskin back and down the length of him, drawing out another sound from Will’s overly constricted throat. 

Will bucked into the touch, totally humiliated when a small whimper passed his lips. He buried his face as deep as it would go against the taller man’s shoulder and then used his hand to press against his mouth when Mike’s shoulder didn’t offer enough to sufficiently muffle the sound. Mike tugged at Will’s wrist, trying to stop the attempt to hide. 

“Don’t do that. You’re so responsive,” Mike noted, adjusting his grip and speed at which he flicked his wrist. “I wondered what you’d sound like.”

Will whimpered, his hips twitching involuntarily into the touch. Was Mike being serious? He’d imagined this? Had wondered what Will sounded like during sex? Jesus, that was hot. Will opened his eyes and tried to clear the fog enough to watch Mike’s chest, his arm flex as he worked. 

The slender man was still relaxed, eyes closed. His mouth was parted a little as he breathed and Will had to hold back another audible groan when the tall Domestic squeezed him below the glans and coaxed a bead of precome from him. Mike tsked and ran his thumb over Will’s slit, spreading the pre over him. 

“Relax. Just enjoy this,” Mike encouraged, moving faster. “Wanna help you feel good.”

The cloudy, fuzzy feeling was almost a full body high now, not just a head one. Every touch felt more intense than it should, like time was going at half speed. Will tilted his head back and let his mouth go slack as he relaxed into the feelings and the words. 

This felt amazing, even if it was just a handjob; something impersonal. It was the most contact Will had had in years and he raised his hands to grip Mike’s shirt, matting it up between his fingers. Mike leaned into the touch, lips hovering over Will’s skin but not touching it. The warm tension was pooling deep in Will’s belly and spine and he moved into Mike’s touches, forgetting his shame, his abashment. 

“I can give you whatever you want, can make you feel good in any way that pleases you,” Mike whispered, mouth parted in a pant from his excursions. 

Will hesitated, hips still trembling with the desire to move into the touch. What did he want? 

Will wanted to kiss the other man, but that was too familiar, too intimate for what was going on between them. Mike hadn’t even let Will touch him to jerk him off, there was no way he’d allow a kiss. Will bit down on his lip and repressed the desire, instead letting out a small whine. It wouldn’t take Mike long to finish him if this kept up. It had been a long time since anyone other than Will had touched him and the desire he felt for Mike only heightened his need. Will laid a hand on Mike’s chest and pressed gently in warning of his impending release when he felt the familiar, tight feeling at the base of his cock. 

“Hey, wait. I’m gonna cum,” Will whispered, hand hovering on Mike’s thin chest, enjoying the feel of it. 

“I know. That’s the point. Let me take care of you. Just relax,” Mike said, not slowing his pace. 

Will groaned again at hearing those words and jerked a little, body ripe for release. He twisted his head to the side and squeezed his eyes closed, fingers still curled around the material of Mike’s undershirt. Mike pressed into the touch, letting Will cling to him and moan as his orgasm finally came, making his hips jerk and causing Will to arch forward. 

Will felt Mike catch most of it in his palm, using the excess to coat and lubricate Will so he could stroke him through to the finish. Will rode the high to the end until he collapsed into a ball of trembling nerves and post orgasm bliss. 

Will was still clinging to the other man, looking for an anchor to hold him steady, and Mike let him. After a time, Will came back to himself, fuzzy as he was, and felt a wave of guilt. He took a slow, uneven breath and cracked his eyes open, totally ashamed of himself. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he tried, voice soft and cracking as he spoke. 

“Why?”

Will tried to clear the fog and focus on Mike’s placid if confused look. He licked his lips and tried again. 

“I… I’m sorry I did that. So sorry.”

Mike raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re worried about the clothes, don’t be. We’re going to the dry cleaner’s tomorrow. Lie back and stay still. I have to get something,” Mike said as he rolled away, leaving Will confused and ashamed. 

Will rolled onto his back and flung his arms over his face. He took a breath, totally horrified by what had happened, by what _he’d done_. Why had he done that? He should have shoved Mike away and told him to go the second he’d come in. Fuck. Will really wasn’t better than anyone else was he? He wasn’t any better, any less abusive than anyone else who owned a Domestic, no matter how much he’d tried to convince himself that he was. 

When Mike returned, Will peaked out from under his arm, afraid to even look at him.

The taller man had stripped off his slacks and had washed his hands, returning with a warm, damp washcloth. Will twitched and tried to pull away, to cover his nakedness but Mike stopped him by putting a hand on his stomach and pressing down lightly. 

“Hold still. You told me you were going to let me take care of you,” the dark haired man said as he settled onto the bed next to Will. 

Will wanted to protest, to put an end to this but something in the way Mike spoke to him, the _authority_ of it made him still his movements. He’d never seen Mike so assertive, so commanding. It was almost… comforting. Will lay quietly as Mike set to work wiping Will down, cleaning the excess spend before helping him pull his embarrassingly childish pants back up and into place. The towel was warm and felt good against Will’s quickly chilling skin and it was a disappointment when the taller man set it aside. When he turned back to look at Will again, the smaller man forgot how to breath. 

“Roll onto your side,” he said, voice even and steady. 

“What?”

“I said I was going to hold you until you felt better. Roll over.”

Will obeyed, unquestioning and without argument. It almost felt nice, being told what to do, not having to make the decision. Once he was on his side, back to Mike, the taller man settled in next to him again. When long arms wrapped around him, holding Will still and close, the shorter man closed his eyes and breathed in Mike’s scent. He enjoyed it, the smell, the press of Mike’s chest against his skin, the feeling of his body being enveloped. After a moment, Will began to relax, felt himself grow tired as his eyes grew heavy. 

“Go to sleep. I’ll stay until you do.”

Will nodded, happy to follow that direction and let sleep draw him in, one steady breath at a time even as guilt gnawed at him, reminding him of what he’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy wow the chapter was long. I usually try to make them between 5500 and 6500 but this one was... maybe 1000 more than I anticipated. Whoops. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Take care of yourselves and be well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike makes an offer. Will talks to an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Referenced dub con. Referenced kink. Controversial medical treatment.

Will woke the next morning still groggy and with that heavy, swimming, hung over feeling that made his head spin and stomach churn. He _really_ needed to stop getting frustrated and drinking as a solution, he was getting too old for this shit and wasn’t bouncing back from it as fast as he had been as a teenager. Maybe Will should take up yoga, meditation, tai chi perhaps. He could start buying yoga pants and leggings and start waking with the dawn to stretch out and bend his tendons and muscles in ways they weren’t meant to bend (at least not for him) and top it off with a cup of tea and a ‘namaste’. That had to be healthier than his weekly trip to the liquor store and chewing pills to make them work faster so he didn't have to spend so much time trapped in his own head, in the swirling storm of shit and anxiety that gnawed at him like a flea on a dog. Shit, maybe he could even buy a juicer and start _actually_ caring what he put in his body so he’d have a chance of living past sixty. Ha. Maybe. At least he’d quit smoking once school was over, that was a start. 

Will rolled over and looked at the clock; nine thirty. He grit his teeth and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to rid himself of the headache forming behind his eyes as he wondered how much a decent yoga mat cost. He rolled again onto his back and stretched, feeling his joints crack in protest from being so inebriated that he slept in the same position most of the night (one night he was going to drink too much and choke on his own vomit and that would be the end, au revoir). He was mid stretch when it happened, when he froze and memories of what had transpired, _what he’d done_ the night before struck him.

A great wave of shame and regret rolled over him, adding to the nausea he already felt and Will stared at the ceiling for a long, long moment, trying to hold back the vomit he’d been thinking about only moments before.

Will didn’t want to move, didn’t even want to _exist_. How could he have done that? What was _wrong_ with him? What the hell had he been thinking (probably nothing. Well, not about anything other than himself, selfish, self indulgent idiot that he was). Will pushed himself onto his side and picked up the tablet that he’d started keeping next to the bed (not the dresser, it was too far away), and immediately opened the app that tracked Mike’s location and well being with shaking fingers. 

The curly haired man was in the kitchen instead of on the balcony, vitals normal. Why was he in the kitchen? It wasn’t raining; had Will scarred him so badly that Mike didn't even want to retreat to the little sanctuary he’d made for himself out on the ledge? Will pulled up the chart of Mike’s past vitals, searching for evidence of the wrong he’d done to the other man, the distress he’d caused with his selfishness. Will looked them over with a critical eye, sick with worry for what he might find there (at least the vitals were there at all, still active and demonstrating that the other man lived on, that he hadn’t gotten creative and strung himself up with a belt from the ceiling fan after the way Will had treated him). There were spikes in heart rate from last night, but none in cortisol. Was this thing even working right? Will doubted it. If it was, he never would have been hired to work on the system in the first place. He shut off the tablet, rolled onto his back again, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, into his headache and tried to control the urge to wretch. 

_You fucking idiot. You absolute moron. What the hell is wrong with you? Who the fuck **raised** you to act like that to another person? **What is wrong with you?** Fuck. You’re disgusting._

Will had to apologize, he had to make this right (was that possible? Doubtful). What could he do? He couldn’t take it back, couldn’t press rewind and make it so it had never happened… and frankly, Will didn’t trust the advice he’d been getting online (even from the people who claimed to have been Domestics. What proof did Will have that they actually were? Anything was possible when you lied) so there was no help to be found there. There was no way he was going to call the customer service desk of Noble Synergy with his questions and guilt, they couldn’t care less, he was sure of that if nothing else. Who could he ask? There was no one, no one who understood what Mike must be going through, the great harm Will had done to him… 

Will sat up and reached for his phone, not knowing what else to do. He hesitated, fingers shaking and opened his contacts, scanning them for one in particular. Should he do this? Was it even appropriate? They hadn’t even spoken in years other than commenting on each other’s social media posts, but they’d been close once and Will trusted him… Will dialed the number and held the phone to his ear, stomach twisting uncomfortably, a rabbit caught in a snare. He should have made this call a long time ago, he shouldn’t have waited this long. If there was anyone Will could ask, who’d know what Will should do, it would be him, right? Why was Will so stupid, so inconsiderate and thoughtless and self centered and such a massive fuck up and why didn’t he- 

“Hi you’ve reached Scott Clarke. I can’t get to my phone right now, I’m on a curiosity voyage! Please leave me your name, number, and a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I’m able.”

Will hesitated, struggled to find his voice (and his courage. It had to be in there somewhere didn’t it?). What should he say? He took a breath and tried to form the words. 

“Hi Mr. Clarke, it’s Will Byers. I know it’s been a long time, Sir, but I… I need to speak to you. I have a problem and… and I know it’s been a while but I was hoping you’d be able to help me. I’m sorry to call out of the blue like this, Sir, but I really need some help. Please call me back when you can. Thank you, Sir. Just, just when it’s convenient for you. Thanks.”

Will hung up the phone and stared at it. Mr. Clarke was busy, or screening his calls, or didn’t want to talk to Will at all. Will thought about calling again, afraid to speak to Mike now, without guidance, but didn’t want to be a bother to the man who’d once been his mentor. He slowly rose to his feet and shuffled to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth, searching for any way to buy time, to give himself a moment to think. 

He looked down, confused when he didn’t trip on anything left discarded on the floor. The clothes he’d dropped there the night before were gone without a trace. What was the likelihood he’d gotten up and sleep walked around the apartment cleaning? It didn't seem high (not nearly as high as Will had been the night before). If the programmer ever did sleep walk it was probably to the refrigerator to shove an entire package of sauerkraut or gallon of milk down his throat because he’d missed another meal, too deeply invested in his work to actually stop and eat anything of substance before falling back into bed, none the wiser as to why he had a massive stomach ache the next morning. Will splashed his face with water, pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, and took a breath to steady himself. He couldn’t hide in his room all day, he had to face this, face Mike. 

The taller man was seated at the kitchen island eating a bowl of cereal with almond milk, already dressed in a pullover with his mane of curls wild around his face (no need to comb them back or wear a suit on Saturday Will had assured him when the freckled man had taken to dressing up _every day_ , even ones where they never even left the apartment). He looked up when Will entered, brown eyes serene as he watched the other man shuffle from foot to foot, hesitant to enter the room. 

“Morning.”

“Good morning,” Will said, unsure. 

Mike didn’t look upset, didn’t look unusual in any way. Will averted his eyes and looked at his coffee pot, already full with enticing scents wafting from it as he crept into the space. Mike didn’t drink coffee, it was too hard on his stomach; had he made it for Will? Will poured himself a cup and turned to the refrigerator to pull out the creamer, adding it to his coffee until it was pale brown, the color of the dirt floor of the hideaway he’d spent so many hours as a kid. When he glanced back up to Mike, trying to find his nerve, the other man was chewing his food slowly, eyes still trained on Will. 

“Are you okay?” the lanky man asked, taking another bite.

Will hesitated at the question. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one asking Mike that? Jesus, even after what he’d been through Mike was still trying to be accommodating, concerned (or pretending to be) with Will’s well being. 

“I… don’t know.”

“Still stressed out about work?”

Will blinked at the seated man, confused. No, not really stressed about work, it was the furthest thing from his mind right now, as it should be. There were so many more pressing things that needed attention, like Mike. Was _he_ okay? Did he hate Will even more now? How was he feeling, how was he handling what had happened? Will looked at him with a critical eye, trying to ferret out any hint of distress or discomfort on his end. Mike was still watching him, chewing his food and stirring it from time to time. He didn’t _look_ upset, but Mike was so well trained and used to controlling his reactions to things Will couldn’t be sure, couldn’t trust his own thoughts or instincts in this matter. Will cleared his throat, sat two stools down from the taller man, and stared very intently at his coffee. 

“About last night…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about that. About all of it,” Will said, not looking up. 

“Why?” the freckled man said, still watching Will, a curious expression on his face. 

Will clenched his fingers around his mug so hard he was sure it would have cracked if it had been ceramic instead of the plastic he’d replaced all the glassware with. Will felt the liquid burn his fingers through the mug as he stared down at the coffee, searching for a way to voice his thoughts. 

“I… I never meant to do that. Never meant to make you do something like that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Will whispered, voice cracking with the weight of the shame he felt.

He jerked a little when the taller man shifted, moving from his seat to take the one closer to Will. Mike pushed his mass of curls away from his face so he could see Will better (so he could get a clearer view of the younger man’s shame?) and opened his mouth to speak.

“You didn’t make me do anything, I wanted to. You were upset and you’ve been so kind, I wanted to help you.”

“You tried to kill yourself the first night you were here. You tried to run after that.” _I took advantage of you._ “How kind can I possibly be?” Will asked, nerves making his teeth chatter a little as he spoke, still afraid to even look at the man next to him. 

Mike shifted again, finally looking away from Will and redirecting that intense, unwavering gaze. 

“That first night… it wasn’t because of you. I was shown a good deal of cruelty before, with previous engagements and… I was just afraid. Afraid you’d be the same, or worse.”

_Aren’t I? I took advantage of you, **used** you because it was easy and I was weak and lonely and… I’m sorry._

“But you’re not. You never used the correctional tools or laid a hand on me-”

_Before last night._

“- so when you were upset the way that you were, I knew I could comfort you. That I _wanted_ to comfort you. You’ve been so kind to me. I could keep comforting you,” Mike said, leaning closer to Will again, until he was hovering a breath away. “If you want me to.”

Will wanted to lean away, wanted to stand and put distance between them but he sat frozen, still as a stone, moss growing over every crevice and crack on him as his foundation cracked and crumbled. Why was he so _bad at this_? Why was he such a failure? Will knew, he _knew_ Mike was pretending, doing what he thought he needed to do in order to please Will, in order to survive. He glanced over at the slim Domestic, tried to be as clear as he could when he spoke. 

“You don’t have to have sex with me just to make me feel better. That’s not why I picked you.”

“I know. I believe you. I’m trying to be a good assistant to you, to ease your stress that way, but I know I’m lacking. There are things I don’t lack in though, ways I can help you outside of an office…” Mike whispered, eyes locked on Will, making him squirm (spiritually if not physically. Physically, he was still frozen by all that overgrown plant life, stone turning to sand and the roots grew deep, breaking Will apart). “I’m good at it and I _want_ to. I liked it last night. Liked the way you felt under my hands, the way you moved and,” Mike leaned closer, letting his breath warm the skin of Will’s neck. “It doesn’t have to be sex. There are ways for you to let go and feel good without that. You don’t even have to touch me. It’s not that personal. You’d never have to do that if you didn’t want to, all you have to do is give over a little control.”

Will sat breath hitched in his chest, hands planted firmly around his coffee cup. Mike was right next to him, near enough to touch but not doing it. Was he serious? Did he _want_ to do those things with Will? Will swallowed and finally shifted, dislodging the roots of the moss that clung to him when he felt that familiar stirring. What did Mike mean, ‘give over control’? Did he mean like last night, when he’d been in charge, when he’d told Will what to do and Will complied? Maybe that felt good to Mike, to have the power in this… this thing he was presenting to Will. What was it, exactly? Will shifted again and drew his mug to his lips, taking a long drink to buy himself time. 

“What exactly are you suggesting? What are you offering, here?” he asked, trying to gain as much information and be as clear as he could, despite how uncomfortable it made him (Will wished he could hide, crumble and break as grains of sand, blown away by a gust of wind and forgotten).

“Honestly, whatever you need. I know a few ways to help you unwind and we’d only take it as far as you wanted. You’d be in total control, with the illusion of not being.”

Will laughed nervously, unsure. 

“What does that mean?” he asked, needing to actually hear the words, what was being implied.

“Exactly what I said. You need someone to hold you, to stroke your hair and whisper sweet nothings, I’m right here. You don’t want soft hands? You need someone to pull your hair and slap you around and choke you and tell you what a bad boy you are? I’m here for that too,” Mike said, eyes dark and heavy as he watched Will for a reaction. 

Will laughed again, totally taken off guard. Well, that was direct, exactly what he’d asked for. He’d never had anyone talk to him like that before and it was graphic, the images that paraded through his mind at the words. How was… was _that_ supposed to help with anything? Did people actually do that? Did they _want_ to be smacked and sexualized and degraded and did it really make them feel better in some way? 

He pushed down the nervous giggle that tried to escape him and looked back at Mike, at his hands. They were big. They could hold Will down and bring pain as easily as they’d brought pleasure the night before. Is that what he _really_ wanted? Did Mike want to hurt Will? Use him as a whipping boy, a willing vessel for him to take out all the pain and abuse he’d been put through over the years (but no, he’d said he’d be gentle if Will wanted, would hold and pet him and whisper all the pretty things Will desperately wanted to hear). 

“Are, are you talking about BDSM?”

“I’m talking about relaxing you, taking care of you, in any way you need. If it takes a little slap and tickle to get you unwound enough to sleep at night,” Mike shrugged. “Just think about it.”

Will shuddered, remembering how it had felt to have Mike take control, what it felt like to have Mike tell him what to do and just let the taller man do what _he_ wanted. It was almost cathartic, to give some of that power back to the other man, to let him be in charge. Will had never wanted to be in this position anyway (owning another person) and Mike had been on the receiving end of total control for so long with no autonomy at all... Maybe he did want that, the ability to make choices for himself and someone else. Would it be good for him, if Will let him have this? It could be therapeutic, couldn’t it? Letting him have that, having Will give up some of his own controlling, anxious nature so Mike could express himself in this way? Mike had said it was an illusion, the loss of control. But when he’d commanded Will to be still, to let Mike hold the smaller man, clean and massage him, Will had been helpless to say ‘no’ (he hadn’t even _tried_ ).

Will stared down at Mike’s hands, how relaxed they were, how they rested just inches from his own and swallowed again, unsure and aroused and way out of his depth. 

“I’ll think about it.”

**

The game of phone tag he played with Mr. Clarke for the next few days was a frustrating one. Mr Clarke would call while Will was at work, knee deep in his projects and when Will called back, Mr. Clarke was with a student or busy as a guest speaker, giving lectures to banks about cyber crime and security. They only managed to win the game when they finally decided over text on a time that would work for both of them to have a Skype call. Now, seated at his desk, Will practiced what exactly it was that he was supposed to say. 

Will had done what he could to prepare for this; taken a Valium and written notes on things he should ask, and asked Mike for privacy. Nothing had seemed different between them despite what had happened that night and the conversation that had followed. Once Will told Mike he needed time to think about it, the offer, the other man had backed off. They still worked closely together at the office and Mike never tried to approach Will at night about it. When Will had asked for space, for privacy, Mike had agreed to the request with a quiet ‘as you wish’. He wasn’t obvious about it (if it was real at all) but Will had a sinking, troubled feeling that Mike had been hurt by that, by being asked to leave. 

It wasn’t like they were attached at the hip or anything, they both moved freely through the apartment and did what they liked but they usually ended up near one another, like two planets trapped in each other's gravitational pull. Will liked to set up his laptop in the living room while Mike read or listened to some of the music he’d started downloading along with his audio books and Mike would settle in to the office sofa to transcribe Will’s notes while the smaller man worked. It wasn’t something they ever vocalized, never asked the other for company, but it happened nonetheless. So when Will asked Mike to go, to give him some space even for just an hour… it felt strange and Will got the impression that Mike had been upset by the request. 

Will chewed on his pen and watched the screen as he pulled up his camera setting and preview for the fifth time just to make sure the lighting was alright, that he didn’t in fact have anything stuck between his teeth. Once he was satisfied that he looked like a normal, functioning adult, Will sat back and waited (fully aware that he had twenty more minutes until the agreed upon call time, thank you for the concern). He pulled up his web browser and clicked mindlessly through his social media accounts where he liked and commented on interesting posts but never made any of his own. 

When the little notification in the corner of his screen popped up with a soft, musical note Will fought back the desire to reject the call and hide, pretending to have never seen it at all. Will quickly clicked on the little green phone before his fortitude failed him. Will plastered on a smile as Mr. Clarke’s face came into view, smiling back at him. 

“Hi Will! It’s been a while!”

“Hi Mr. Clarke, it’s great to see you Sir,” Will chirped back as cheerfully as he could manage over the growing frailty of his resolve. 

Mr. Clarke smiled at him, the skin around the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did. 

“Will, you can call me Scott. I’m not your teacher anymore, we’re both adults. I think we can use first names.”

“Okay, Scott,” Will said, the word sounding strange and foreign in his mouth. 

He’d always liked Mr. Clarke, had always respected him and enjoyed learning from him. Calling him by his first name felt impolite, unfilial. Mr. Clarke seemed to sense his unease and shifted, redirecting the conversation. 

“So what have you been doing? What did you need my help with?”

Will faltered, unsure despite all the pep talks he’d given himself to get ready for this. He cleared his throat and shifted, tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear. 

“I um… there’s someone I know and I don’t really know how to help him, he’s got a lot of problems and I- I’m sorry, Sir, I should start from the beginning. See, I was hired by this company and it’s a great job but there’s this guy and.. Hang on, let me start over,” Will apologized and ducked his head to try and reorganize his thoughts, knowing that he was messing this up already (just like he did everything else). 

“Will, hey, take a breath. It’s okay,” Mr. Clarke said with a laugh. “Must be serious, huh? And call me Scott, it’s my name. Someone bullying you again? I remember you had problems with that in high school.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, Scott. Sorry.” _stop stumbling, just spit it out._

“Just calm down, Will. Tell me what’s going on,” Mr. Clarke said, adjusting his screen to see the younger man better. “How can I help? Tell me what’s been going on.”

Will took a breath and looked down at his notes, trying to figure out where to start. 

“I- I’m fine Sir. Scott. Sorry,” _not really._ “I graduated last year and got hired by this company, Noble Synergy and-” 

_Oh god, Mr. Clarke’s **face** … he looked horrified._

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. If it’s okay,” he added quickly, still watching his mentor’s face fall at his words. 

Mr. Clarke took a moment, one where he just looked at Will, placid and unreadable. That horrified look was gone, replaced with something to akin to how Mike looked at Will, cacographic and imperturbable. His eyes were a little flat and his expression was too serene for the look that had been on his face moments before. Mr. Clarke took that moment for himself, to let what Will had said sink in before he spoke again.

“How can I assist you?”

“I… Sir, when I was hired I… I’m sorry, I don’t know who else to ask. When they hired me, they uh… I was given a…”

“Domestic,” Mr. Clarke supplied, saving Will from having to say it. 

“Y-yes Sir. Scott.”

“And?”

“And I’m so sorry but I just- I don’t know anyone else who has any experience and I don’t know what I should do. I don’t know what I _can_ do, Sir, and I just thought… You’re the only person I know who has been, who was- was-”

“-Domesticated.”

Yeah.

Mr. Clarke turned his head, broke eye contact with Will who suddenly felt a wave of guilt for doing this, for calling Mr. Clarke and dragging him through this, maybe bringing up memories the other man may have tried to repress. God, Will was so selfish and self centered. He was the absolute worst type of person, so self absorbed that he didn’t even think about what this might be like for the other man, to be reminded of that part of his past. Why hadn’t Will thought about how this might make Mr. Clarke feel? Will looked away too, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry, Sir. I shouldn’t have called.”

“Will. It’s, it’s okay. Just um… What do you need? How can I assist you?”

Will waited a moment before the flood gates opened and it all poured out; everything that had happened, starting at the beginning. He told Mr. Clark about how he’d seen Mike, sitting bound and solitary on the floor, how he’d chosen Mike not knowing _what_ the other man was. It was humiliating, explaining to another person, a man he respected, that he had leased a Companion. He tried to explain, to make it clear that _he hadn’t known_ what that was, what it meant. Mr. Clarke watched Will from behind his glasses, just listening as Will rambled and stuttered like a fool. 

Will told him about the suicide attempt, the collar, and how it had gone off, shocking Mike so badly that the other man had been helpless to do anything other than writhe and cry out in pain. Will told him what happened after (omitting the more intimate, embarrassing details. There was only so much humiliation Will would endure in one conversation). He told Mr. Clark about the nest in the closet and how Mike had come into his room and Will hadn’t sent him away (he left out the handjob. How was he supposed to share _that_ with his mentor?). Mr. Clarke listened, quiet all the while, and waited for Will to finish. 

“I just… I don’t know who to ask… How I’m supposed to help and… I’m just over my head, Sir.”

“What would you like me to do, Will? Do you want me to tell you what it was like for me? Do you want me to help you complete your work so you can get out of the contract? What can I do to help you?” Mr. Clarke finally asked, settling back into the sofa he sat on. 

“Can you… can you talk to him? He won’t talk to me.”

_I don’t know what to do._

“Will… He’s… he might not want to talk to me either. I’m willing to try but… he sounds like a Lifer. He’s still got the collar and they usually remove those after two years or so, once you’re trained and tractable… at least they did for most of us. I don’t know how receptive he’ll be.”

“Lifer? What do you mean?” Will asked, having never heard the term. 

“Will, it sounds like his situation wasn’t voluntary. It, it kind of sounds like he was raised for this. Like he hasn’t known anything else. When you asked his name and he didn’t have one… Will, he probably never did. People like me, it was something we chose to do. Ours had an end date. I chose to be Domesticated, twelve years of service instead of twenty in prison. The Companions, people like Mike… Well, people don’t usually volunteer for that.”

Will wavered, unsure. He’d known that Mr. Clarke had been a Domestic because of some kind of hacking incident where he’s bypassed a bank’s security systems and transferred a bit of money away from other accounts… He’d always assumed Mike had done something like that, or that he’d been deeply in debt and needed a way out of it. Will didn’t understand, how could someone be a Lifer? How was it _legal_ to do that, to raise a _child_ for a life of servitude? Why hadn’t Will known about this? He’d never considered himself sheltered, he knew what Domestics were and how they were essential for the economy and he knew Noble Synergy was one of the two largest distributors in the country. But how did they… how did they have _kids_? How was that allowed?

“Did you know a lot of Lifers, Sir?”

“No. Domestics never really get a chance to _know_ each other. But yes, I was around a few from time to time. You could tell, they were different from the rest. All of us knew, or learned, how to hide things, how to pretend not to feel anything. Not sadness, not anger, not joy. But we all _knew_ , we remembered what life actually was. We could fall back on that, memories of what we had before, and know we’d eventually be free again. But the Lifers they… they don’t know anything else. I don’t even know if they realize that some Domestics _can_ be freed. I don’t know if they even realize that there’s something other than what they have. They don’t… they don’t know what happiness is. Or hope, or love, or dreams even are. They’re… they’re different. I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to me. I don’t know if he’d even believe me and if he did, if it would help.”

“Are… are you trying to say they don’t have any feelings?” Will asked, voice small. 

That didn’t seem right. Mike had feelings. He had preferences and hidden expressions and tendencies that showed he had feelings. He’d tried to kill himself, he’d tried to run. He had to _feel_ something to take those actions. 

Mr. Clarke shook his head and adjusted his glasses. 

“No, of course they have feelings. They’re people, Will. It’s just that they’re never given an opportunity to experience them or nurture them in the same way we are. Anything good or positive or anything they enjoy could be used as a weapon, or incentive, and that’s if they were lucky enough to get exposed to anything enjoyable at all. The only feelings that get attention and the opportunity to grow and thrive are negative ones. I mean, there’s a reason so many turn violent. There’s a reason so many get Decommissioned.”

Violence. Mike had never lashed out at Will, never tried to _hurt Will_ (even if he offered it, if Will wanted him to). The Facility had told Will that Mike wasn’t prone to that behavior, that side effect. But Mike had tried to kill himself and that was certainly violent. Maybe they only cared about whether or not the behavior was directed at a client? If the only thing Mike had felt his entire life was negative feelings and emotions, it wasn’t surprising at all that he’d turn those feelings inward, direct them on himself as an outlet. The Facility had given Will a metaphorical boatload of drugs to keep Mike calm and docile as possible, as a way to keep his ‘reckless and self destructive tendencies’ under control. Will hadn’t given him any and he seemed fine…

Will cleared his throat. 

“Sir, what does that mean? If they’re Decommissioned?”

They didn’t… they didn’t _kill_ the Domestics, did they?

Mr. Clarke shifted. 

“Lobotomized.”

“W- What?” Will asked, mouth suddenly very dry. 

“If a Lifer has too many black marks on their record, if their behavior is too erratic or uncontrollable, they can be made more manageable through lobotomy. People like me, who volunteer, if we acted up we could be sent to prison with no time served, no credit added to our sentence so most of us stayed in line. Lifers though, well, what else are they supposed to do with them?” Mr. Clarke asked bitterly. 

“That- that’s-”

“-Barbaric. And a last resort if retraining and medication don’t fix the problem,” Mr. Clarke said, shifting again. “And it makes them less suited for what they were trained in so it’s not used often.”

_Any_ use of lobotomy as punishment or means of control was too often. Will licked his lips, suddenly very cold. These… these were the people he worked for? Christ. Will should quit. He should break his contract and pay the fee or whatever they wanted and leave, start over. He couldn't be a part of this, couldn’t have any hand in this. He had to get out, had to run and-

\- And what would happen to Mike if Will did? Nothing good. At best he’d be sent back to the place Will had found him and at worst… Will was having difficulty breathing. Every breath he tried to take was shallow, ineffective. Will blinked at his mentor and tried to clear his vision from the blur it was becoming. 

“Sir I, I didn’t know. I’m not, I’m not like that,” he tried weakly, searching for a way to defend himself. “I didn’t know.”

Mr. Clarke softened. 

“I know, Will. I believe you. Most people don’t know and the ones that do don’t care because of the profit in it. You’re just a kid, Will. No one would expect you to know what was going on in the facilities. I’ll talk to Mike if you want me to. I don’t know how much it will help but I can try.”

It was of little comfort now, like pressing a band aid to an amputated limb. Will smiled anyway, to show his appreciation. 

“Thank you Sir. Scott. Thank you. Should I e-mail you, to set up a time?”

“Yes, of course. I have a student soon, e-mail me with the details of when I can call and talk to Mike. I’m going to contact some friends, see if they have any insight or advice.”

“Thank you, Sir. Just let me know when it’s convenient for you.”

Will stared at the screen for a long time after he disconnected the call, thinking about what Mr. Clarke had said. Will wanted to go to Mike, take him away and apologize for everything that had happened to him. Will wanted to rip the collar off the other man’s throat and dig out the GPS from his body and put him in a car and just _go_. 

He settled on just leaving the office and seeking out the dark haired Domestic. Will found him resting on the couch, book in hand, nose buried in it. Mike didn’t look up when Will entered the space (was he angry with Will?) and his eyes weren’t moving in that frenzied pace across the pages like they normally did. Will sat across from him and tried to calm his nerves as he watched Mike ignore him. 

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

Will hesitated. Mike was upset but he wasn't lashing out, wasn’t showing any of the signs of violence Mr. Clarke spoke of. In fact, Mike was barely even acknowledging Will at all. Will picked up the remote and clicked the television on. He flipped through the channels looking for the movie selections while Mike pretended not to notice. Will clicked on a title, accepted the 3.99 rental fee, and sat back as familiar music played and the Universal Pictures logo appeared on the screen. He shifted his gaze to Mike, to see what he would do. It was the first time Will had turned on the television since Mike had moved in and he was curious to see if Mike would bother to stand and leave or keep up the act of not even knowing Will was in the room with him.

For his part, Mike kept his eyes firmly (but unmoving) on his book as the opening credits rolled. After a moment, Mike glanced up over the edge of his book to look but it wasn’t until the first dinosaur roared that he actually tilted his head to the side to see what was happening. 

Will kept his eyes on the television, only watching Mike from the corner of his field of vision. By the time Jeff Goldblum (Will’s childhood crush) entered the picture, Mike had let the book drop a little. Will smiled to himself but didn’t turn or speak to Mike, not wanting to ruin this by bringing the other man back to reality. Will still didn’t know what to do about Mike, about how he should handle any sexual relationship they might or might not have, but this felt right; Will renting a movie that had both traumatized and fascinated him as a child so that Mike could have this, this small, ineffectual moment of pleasure and distraction from the nightmare that was his life. 

Will watched Mike from the corner of his eye, watched the freckled man react to things naturally, like he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room with him. He watched Mike relax his face, stop controlling his expressions. Will watched the other man’s lips part in surprise and his eyes dilate in excitement and Will kept himself quiet as a church mouse during it all. When the raptors hunted the children through the kitchen, Mike gripped his book. When the T-Rex roared her victory to the sky while the banner fell around her, Will thought he might have seen a smile (even if it only lasted a moment). 

“There’s a second movie. Whole series in fact. I was thinking about renting them later this week,” Will commented, trying to be as neutral as he could, to judge Mike’s reaction to that. 

Mike shifted, smile vanishing as if it had never been. 

“If you like.”

“I don’t really want to watch them alone so… if you don’t mind keeping me company… you’d be doing me a favor if you just hung out with me while I did. You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to, I know you don’t like tv. Just um, if you don’t mind being nearby? You could read like you were now. Just if you don’t mind,” Will said, trying to feign disinterest in however Mike would react to that request, trying to show he didn’t care in the slightest. 

Mike looked at Will, expression tranquil and delphic.

“As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to get Mr. Clarke involved in this story for a while because I have plans for him, so I'm excited he's finally here. Will has a lot of feelings going on in this chapter so I'm sorry if it's kind of scattered and disorganized. Anyway, the next chapter of TCBSoF is currently in the works but may take a while to upload because it's another deep delve into past abuse and is a little difficult to get on paper. There might also be a bit of an interruption for content uploads because I have a wedding to attend soon that will take up a lot of time and my classes start next week, so please hang in there while I try to get my shit together lol. Anyway, comments and kudos are always appreciated. Be well, take care of yourselves, and I'll see you in the next one. 
> 
> P.S, moving forward we will be seeing with some kink so if that makes you uncomfortable, please keep an eye on the tags and CWs at the beginning of chapters.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will starts work on a new project. Mike asks for an answer to his question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Dom/Sub tones and concepts. Language.

Will didn’t know what to do with that, the sulking and the ‘as you wish’. It was clear that even though he hadn’t meant to, he’d hurt Mike’s feelings by asking for the space to have his Skype meeting and Will didn’t know what to think about that either. It wasn’t the response he’d anticipated from the other man and if he was being honest, Will hadn’t thought about it at all, what Mike’s reaction might be to being asked to leave (selfish). It was an improvement though, wasn’t it? To be able to _tell_ that the other man was upset? Mike was always so adept at hiding his feelings that even that small, short lived display of displeasure was progress in Will’s eyes (it had to be, Will couldn’t stand to think it was a step back, in the wrong direction). It had to mean that Mike was comfortable enough with Will to let it show, that hurt he felt. 

To apologize, Will had taken the freckled man to the marina to relax by the water and watch the sailboats race. There was a designated swimming area and it was the beginning of summer, but when Will asked if Mike wanted to get in the water, the taller man had simply shook his head and said ‘no thank you’. Will wondered if it was because he _couldn’t_ swim but doubted it; Mike had never tried to hide things he didn’t know how to do before. Still, the curly haired man's disposition had seemed to improve a little after that excursion, after he had the one on one time and it was only improved further after Will rented the second Jurassic Park film for them to watch together. 

Will had wondered if Mike still thought about that night and his offer. Will wondered if Mike would try and push the issue while they shared their space on the sofa, but he hadn’t. The fact that he hadn’t didn’t hurt Will’s feelings exactly, but it did leave a dull ache of desire when Mike leaned over him to pick up a handful of popcorn or shifted to adjust, brushing against Will for only a moment before settling back in to watch the film. Maybe he was waiting for Will to give him an answer. After all, Will was the one who’d said he needed time to think about it. 

And he _did_ think about it. When the night wound down and they parted for the evening, Will thought about how Mike might knock on his door, might crawl under the covers with him and how he’d react to it. Will even let his hands wander while he drifted off to sleep after browsing the internet for videos even remotely related to the topic. He’d twisted and whined quietly into the dark while he thought about Mike’s big hands on him, holding him down and choking him with his (what Will had decided was probably a very pretty) cock. Will felt guilty in the morning for that but it happened anyway and there was no taking it back, even if he was too embarrassed to meet the other man's eyes the following morning. The guilt mostly wore off by mid afternoon, but still. It was disrespectful, wasn’t it? To fantasize about Mike and his offer without his knowledge, his consent? Maybe Will was overthinking it.

Now, Will glanced over at Mike who was seated across the workspace from him, sleeves rolled up so he didn’t stain them with ink as he went over his notes. Mike’s wrists looked better, almost completely healed by now. The stitches had been easy enough to remove with a pair of tweezers (and the help of YouTube tutorials) and Mike had been the one to ask Will to do it rather than seeking an outpatient clinic to have the service performed. And that had to be an improvement too, to actually _ask_ Will for something. The taller man still hesitated to even use the whiteboard to communicate things he wanted or needed (more body wash, unsalted peanuts, a wider toothed comb).

Mike hadn’t even twitched in discomfort as Will worked, pulling the stitches out one thread at a time. Compared to the shocks from his collar, having stitches removed must have felt like nothing to him but Will had still stumbled over himself to apologize as he worked. 

Will watched Mike work from over the edge of his computer screen, watched the tendons in his once bisected wrist flex and move as he wrote. It was after hours but no one seemed to mind if Will stayed late to work and it was easier to just continue at the office rather than packing everything up and move it, only to be resumed once home. Once the office had cleared out, Mike had even loosened his tie until it hung around his throat beneath the collar (the only thing that broke the illusion of a businessman on a break). He’d even undone the first two buttons of his periwinkle button down, exposing the hem of his undershirt. 

Will focused on the collar and frowned a little. He hated the thing and resented the fact that he hadn’t been given a code to disable or remove it. It was ugly and intrusive, like the Mark of Cain, and it was unnecessary at that. Mike had never done anything to make Will even consider using the device that was tucked away safely in his desk drawer but Mike was still burdened with the collar anyway, always having it rub and brush against his skin twenty four hours a day. All the collar did was mark the freckled man to any observers, just like the tattoo and Will wondered if that was intentional. 

Will had briefly toyed with the idea of just cutting the things off of the other man (the faux leather didn’t look particularly thick) but had abandoned the thought quickly. He strongly suspected that trying to sever the collar would cause the wiring within would go berserk as a failsafe against tampering and potentially shock Mike so badly he wouldn’t recover. There had to be a reason Mike hadn’t tried to cut it off himself (and Barb had said any voltage Will chose wouldn’t be lethal, not that the _collar itself_ wasn’t). So Will left it alone for now, even as ugly and unnecessary as it was, and concerned himself with further developing and improving the health systems he’d been hired to work on. 

It had started as a bothersome, troubling little thought that pecked and whispered at the back of Will’s mind and had grown until it was a fully formed one. Why was all that was being tracked vitals and stress levels? Yeah, they were helpful in trying to decode how Mike reacted to things or when he might be in actual danger, but why hadn’t anyone tried to apply the same technology that tracked cortisol levels to other things: oxytocin, serotonin, dopamine, endorphins? If those could be tracked and monitored, if people could tell when a Domestic was actually _happy_ , wouldn’t that improve their quality of life?

No one seemed to provide actual mental health services for Domestics and when Will had called the customer service line to inquire, they’d simply asked if he needed a refill on his prescriptions (you know, the addictive ones meant for short term use). It felt a lot like a Pill Mill and even though the idea of controlled substances readily available at his fingertips might have excited Will once, now it was an annoyance. It wasn’t for him, his desk drawer was over flowing at this point. What Will really needed was a doctor to actually examine Mike and write a prescription for a SSRI or a SNRI for him, something to help him rebalance and realign himself. 

So what started as a silly, nagging thought had grown into a fully fledged idea, a concept all its own. 

And that’s really why Will found himself in the office after hours, fiddling with and tweaking his basic template for the idea. It wasn’t impressive or flashy and it would need a lot of modification and study before it could be implemented, but he was proud of it anyway. Will had designed it to integrate with existing systems, negating the need for further implants or surgeries to install the tech in the current Domestics and he was proud of that too. If it worked the way Will imagined, it meant that no one had to be hurt to install or use it. 

If Will pitched the idea and it was interesting or well thought out enough, if Will did enough work on it and had a demo, would he be able to get research funding? Maybe a grant from Noble Synergy to further its development? He hoped so, but it was too early to tell. First thing was first, Will had to do the groundwork and prepare the pitch for Mr. Walsh to even consider the idea of taking it to his superiors. Even though Will knew it was too early, he still had high hopes anyway. 

Will stretched and leaned back in his chair, trying to crack his aching back but had little success (what he really wanted was for someone to pick him up and crack him like a glow stick, like what Jonathan had done to him when they were younger). Mike was looking up, watching Will with a half smile as the programmer manipulated his body, twisted it against the office chair seeking relief. God, Will was too young to feel like this. How was he just now approaching his twenty fourth birthday and already incorporating a fistful of pain relieving and anti-inflammatory meds as part of his balanced breakfast? 

“You okay?” The taller man asked, raising an eyebrow as Will squirmed and readjusted himself. 

“I’ll be fine, I’m just a little stiff.”

“You’d probably feel better if you didn’t have the posture of a half cooked lasagna noodle,” Mike pointed out, eyebrow still quirked. “You sit like the drunk at the end of the bar who’s trying to keep their head up just high enough that they don’t get cut off,” he observed before turning to look back down at his work. 

Will blinked, surprised by the remark, and grinned. Mike still didn’t talk as much as Will would have liked but when he did, he was remarkably funny and had a tongue sharp as thorns. Will laughed and leaned back into his chair, giving up his efforts. 

“Been to a lot of bars, huh?”

Mike glanced up, not even pausing his writing. 

“I’ve been to enough.”

“Oh, that’s funny coming from the guy who gets a caffeine buzz from green tea. I bet it’d only take two shots and _maybe_ one beer to have you under the table,” Will chided, trying for the first time to tease the other man but unsure of how it would be received. 

As he watched, Mike shifted and glanced up from his notes. He was grinning just enough to show a little of his teeth. 

“Well, I’ll have to defer to your judgement then since you’re the expert on that subject.”

Will hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. When a look of concern passed over Mike’s face, like he regretted the jab, Will knew he had to speak, to diffuse that uncertainty. 

“Listen, we all have our expertise. Mine happens to be in the fine art of boozing. If I ever need to know eighty three ways to give someone an orgasm, I’ll call you, okay?”

Oh. Oh no. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. 

Will froze. He’d meant to make a joke about Mike’s fixation with water or about how his reading habits were enough to destroy a small ecosystem. He hadn’t meant to insult Mike’s position in life or imply that he was a whore or anything like that. Will sat suspended in time, certain that he’d ruined this, this first playful encounter of theirs. 

Mike looked at him and Will struggled to find it, his voice. 

“You insult me, Sir.”

Oh, oh shit. 

“I’m sorry, I-”

“- I know one hundred and twenty seven ways to bring someone to orgasm, and that’s just the men. For women there are dozens more,” Mike finished, that little half grin wider now. 

Will laughed, surprised and relieved that Mike hadn’t (seemed to have) been offended by the joke. Will let his laugh fade to a grin and watched Mike lean back into his chair, curls wild around his face. Mike looked good when he was smiling and this was the first real one Will had seen that lasted longer than a moment when under direct eye contact. It was a wide, relaxed smile that even managed to reach his dark, midnight firefly eyes. It was a smile that lit him up and brought color to Will’s face the longer he looked at it. 

Will twisted, trying to think of a comeback when that smile died where it was, replaced by Mike’s normal, cold, unreadable look. What had made it die? Will opened his mouth to speak, to reignite that fire when a hand closed on his shoulder and made him jump in his chair. 

“Working late, Byers?”

Will turned, totally taken off guard to face who’d spoken, who’d touched him, and came face to face with his team leader, James Dante. 

“Y- Yes Sir.”

Will sat rooted to the spot with Mr. Dante’s hand still on his shoulder as the other man leaned over, examining the computer screen for himself. Will cast a glance at Mike but the other man was looking down, back at his notes with his hands palm down on the table as he focused on his work. Will waited as Mr. Dante examined the screen with scrutiny, a crease in his brow as he looked over the lines of code for a long moment. 

“This isn’t part of the project. What is this?”

“It’s… It’s just something I’ve been playing around with, Sir. My own program. Just a stupid side project and-”

“- Do you think this is an appropriate use of company resources, Byers?”

Will wavered, mouth dry as he tried to come up with a response. He wasn’t on the clock, not really. Will was salaried, it didn’t really matter if he spent twenty or sixty hours in the office (though he was more likely to spend sixty) as long as he got his work done and met his deadlines. He didn’t see why it mattered if he spent time outside of his regularly scheduled work day to complete a side project. 

He cleared his throat and shifted, not enough to dislodge the hand on his shoulder, and finally shrugged. 

“I’m sorry, Sir. It’s just something I’ve been working on in my spare time. I was going to present it to Mr. Walsh when it’s ready and-“

“-Don't you think your time would be better spent concentrating on _actual_ work? We have a deadline and the earnings quarter is in a few months,” James pointed out as he looked from the screen to Will. “Get your head out of the clouds, Byers, or the only thing you’ll be presenting to Mr. Walsh is your ass when the door hits you on the way out.”

Will stiffened, a sudden wave of fear gripping him and nesting in his gut. Mr. Dante was his team leader, he’d know better than anyone what kind of shape the team was in, if they were on track for their deadlines. Mr. Dante was just looking out for him, trying to make sure that when budget cuts came, it wouldn’t be any of his team that got the boot. He wasn’t sure he could pinpoint exactly when it happened, (maybe during the meeting where the coffee delivered was all expresso and two people had gotten sick from drinking it) but Will no longer felt like the weakest link in the chain. Mr. Dante and Mr. Walsh even called him by his name now and spent less time looking over his shoulder to scrutinize every keystroke he made. But that didn’t matter if the team as a whole failed; there was always the possibility that Will would be let go. This was a game of Survivor and Will hadn’t made any alliances within the tight knit group of senior programmers. 

Will let his hands drop from their place on the desk to his thighs and ran his fingers over the lining of his pockets, searching nervously for the familiar outline of the ziplock bag he’d taken to carrying his loose medication in. It wasn’t like he was going to pull it out and pop one right here in front of his supervisor, but just feeling them in his pocket was a comfort. 

“Yes Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed him uncomfortably and Will suddenly wished that Mike would look up, that he would give Will something familiar and comforting to look at. But Mike kept his head down and used his hair as a veil to conceal his features as he pretended to be very consumed by whatever it was he was working on. Mike may have been comfortable in the office (or as comfortable as he could be, all things considered) but he always kept his distance from the other employees and Domestics, including the project supervisor. Mike seemed to prefer to stick close to Will whenever the smaller man wasn’t at a meeting and kept to himself otherwise. Will didn’t blame him for being shy, especially if it had been a long time since the lanky man had been expected to or had even been given the _opportunity_ to socialize. Still, it would have been consolatory to be able to see Mike’s face, to have something to focus on other than the vexatious anxiety that thummed and throbbed within Will’s chest. 

When Mr. Dante finally released his shoulder and stepped away, Will felt that tightness relax its constrictor grip on his lungs and he could breathe a little better. 

“It’s fine. Byers. Work on your pet project if you want but don’t forget what we actually pay you for. I’d hate for you to fall behind.”

_That’s not gonna happen. I’m not going to let that happen._

“Here, hang on,” the other man said suddenly as he reached into his suit pocket to extract his access card and held it out for Will to take. “There’s a file in my office, second drawer down in the filing cabinet. DWARF 080220, something like that. There’s a flashdrive in there with some of the earlier prototypes, it could be useful for debugging this ah, pet project,” Mr. Dante said as he shifted his weight. “Your program notes on the health systems show you’ve been having a lot of trouble with glitching. So if you’re having trouble there, with a whole team behind you, I can only guess you’re having the same issues here, with this.”

“Sir? You’ve been reading my notes?” Will asked as he accepted the keycard and glanced up, surprised that Mr. Dante would even take the time to read what his team may have scribbled in the margins of their work. 

“Of course I do. If this project fails it’s not just your ass on the line, it’s mine. I’m responsible for you fatuous nitwits so how you perform reflects on me,” the other man said with a half shrug. “Go get the folder, it shouldn’t be hard to find.”

Will rose slowly and unsteadily to his feet, still not convinced that this man was actually trying to help him. And well, that insult at the end hadn’t exactly been encouragement or a show of camaraderie but still… Will was grateful. He turned to look at Mike as he passed but the freckled Domestic still had his eyes down and locked on his notes. This had to be uncomfortable for him, to be in a position to be alone with a man he didn’t know or like, after Will, the only familiar person he had had been scolded. 

Will made a mental note to not dawdle, not to leave the other man alone for too long. He’d grab the file and return the keycard and then they could head home, maybe grab a late dinner on the way. Hadn’t Mike seemed like he wanted to try fish tacos that day at the marina? It was Will’s fault that they hadn’t, he’d been too unsure about the quality of any food prepared and sold on a sidewalk, but there was a place not too far off from the apartment that Will had tried before and trusted. He smiled to himself and hurried to Mr. Dante’s office and unlocked it before stepping inside. 

It felt strange being in this room unsupervised. The only times Will had been in it previously had been with Mr. Dante behind his desk, that cold, scrutinizing look on his face while he dressed Will down for one thing or another. It was different now without the oppressively bright lights directed on him, highlighting every flaw and weakness that Will had. It felt different not having Mr. Dante’s looming form behind the desk, eyes trained on Will, fingers laced under his chin as he listened to the young programmer stutter and bumble through his presentations. 

Now Will felt like an intruder, or an adventurer exploring a long forgotten ruins. The only windows in this office pointed outside rather than to the halls so that no onlookers could peer in for a glimpse of the goings on within. This felt forbidden even though he’d been invited and Will didn’t know how long he stood there next to the door before venturing towards the filing cabinet. 

It wasn’t locked and Will pulled it open with ease as he squatted to search for the folder Mr. Dante had mentioned. A small, flashing red light in the corner of the room let Will know that he was being recorded, but he didn’t worry about it. Will wasn’t snooping and had nothing to hide as he searched through the folders for the right one. It wasn’t difficult to find; in addition to cruelty and malice, Mr. Dante seemed well skilled in the art of organization. Will made a mental note that he needed to organize his own files, maybe print all the digital copies and file them away in a physical location of his own. Yeah, that sounded like a fun way to spend the weekend. 

Still, it might be nice to sit cross legged on the floor, eating snacks and color coding a mountain of paperwork with Mike while they listened to one of the dark haired man’s audiobooks or podcasts. Will smiled to himself as he extracted the file and shut the drawer once he was certain it was the right one. He pocketed the security card and pressed the file to his chest as he made his way back to the door, securing it behind himself as he left. Will felt like his feet were barely touching the carpet when he moved with how light he felt at the idea of making headway with his side project (he hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time, but it _had_ been glitching a little every time he tried to sync it with the existing infrastructure). Will rounded the corner, mouth still parted in a half grin and paused at what he saw. 

Mr. Dante was leaning over Mike in much the same way he’d done to Will earlier and he seemed to be talking to the thin Domestic in hushed tones. Will padded over, curious as to what was being said between them but Mr. Dante rose and straightened his back, hand falling from where he’d rested it on Mike’s shoulder as Will approached. He turned to Will and extended his hand for the key.

“Find it okay, Byers?”

“Yes Sir,” Will confirmed as he extracted the card from its resting place near his ziplock bag and handed it back. “Thank you Sir, I can’t tell you how grateful I am to have the help.”

“Well, maybe you can pay me back for it sometime, if you don’t get the boot,” the other man replied as he slipped the card into his breast pocket. 

“Of course, whenever you need.”

“Alright, well finish up here and get going, Byers. Get some rest, there’ll be plenty of work still to do in the morning.”

“Yes Sir, thank you, Sir,” Will agreed as he ducked his head in a nod, eyes wandering to Mike. 

The taller man still sat with his palms flat against the table, arms obscuring his writing, eyes downcast. It wasn’t unusual for Mike to avoid a situation by keeping his head down and his eyes averted, but it seemed like the other man hadn’t even moved since Will had left and that worried him. Will shifted the file from hand to hand before he finally spoke. 

“You okay, Mike?”

“Yeah, you okay, Mike?” Mr. Dante asked as he took a step away. 

Mike twitched at that and seemed to recalibrate himself. He moved a little, hands still flat and drew the papers he’d been hiding closer to his chest. 

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Will bit down on the inside of his cheek, put off by the response. Will wanted to touch the other man, lay a hand on his back and give him something to ground and comfort him, bring him back to Earth. Will even let his fingers hover over the other man’s spine for a moment before he let it drop again to his side. Will didn’t want to touch the Domestic without his permission (and in front of another person at that, it would give the wrong impression about their relationship). 

“I’ll leave you to it. I have work of my own to get done,” Mr. Dante said as he turned to go. “Oh, and good luck with your project.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Will said as his eyes shifted from the too still Domestic to his boss. 

Once Mr. Dante was gone from view, Will let himself touch Mike, just for a second, on the arm instead of his back. 

“Hey, are you alright?”

Mike twitched at the contact and blinked before he looked up at Will, brown eyes a little cloudy before they cleared and recognition returned to his features. 

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want to head out?”

“Yes. Please.”

**

It wasn’t that the flash drive didn’t help, because it empirically _did_ , but it also highlighted all the flaws Will had failed to see on his own. Now, that should have been a comfort to Will, to be able to see all the errors and missteps people had made before him, but it wasn’t. All it did was show him how totally and truly fucked he was. What he’d hoped would be a few months on his own before actually presenting the concept and potentially getting funding was starting to look like an endless, hopeless endeavor. Will was just one person, how had he been so cocky as to think he could do this alone? It was a massive undertaking and he didn’t have the slightest idea how long it would take now. 

Besides that, Will had asked Mike to stay home today and not having the taller man around, a near and comforting presence, had sent his anxiety into overdrive. The Skype meeting with Mr. Clarke had been scheduled for one in the afternoon and Will didn’t want to take a day off immediately after incident with Mr. Dante the night before, that wouldn’t be very professional and it might give the wrong impression that Will would rather stay home all day playing with his own project instead of doing the things he was paid to do. 

Instead, Will had sat Mike down and set up Skype for him and explained how when it rang, all Mike had to do was click the little green telephone to accept the call. He’d tried his best to explain that the person calling was a friend and that all Will wanted Mike to do was hear him out and then talk if he felt comfortable. Mike had looked at Will with that unreadable expression, his doe eyes steady and unwavering while Will tried his best to explain without ordering the taller man to accept the call and speak when spoken to. Whether or not Mike had actually accepted the call or if he had, if he actually _spoke_ , Will didn’t know. He’d thought about prying, trying to extract the information once he returned home to find Mike on the balcony, but ultimately decided against it. He could email Mr. Clark later, once he was done working on this horrible, never ending script of coding. 

Will chewed his nails as he looked at the screen, actually made one bleed as he ripped a nail between his teeth. Will cursed softly and stuck the digit in his mouth to staunch the bleeding while Mike glanced up at him from his seat on the sofa. After a moment of watching Will nurse his injured finger, Mike pushed the laptop away.

“Come here,” he said, making Will look up at him.

“What?”

“Come here, take a break,” the taller man said again, motioning to the sofa. “You’ve been at it for hours. Sit down.”

Will hesitated before standing, his eyes having drifted back to the mountain of code that stared back at him from the screen, tormenting him. Eventually, Will made his way to the couch and flopped onto it, grateful to actually have a reason to move away from the computer and give his eyes (and mind) a rest. He jerked a little, startled, when Mike placed a hand on his back and began moving it in small circles over the muscles Will hadn’t even realized he’d been holding so tensely until the moment the touches started.

Will leaned forward, allowing the pressure of Mike’s hand on his back to move him and closed his eyes. This was nice, if unexpected. They didn’t touch each other often and almost never for this extended period of a time. Will wondered what had made Mike want to do that, what had made Mike decide to touch him now. He almost asked, almost put a voice to his thoughts when the hand on his back lifted and caused him to turn and face the other man. 

Mike was leaning back, resting against the cushions with an almost peaceful look and his hand pointing to his lap expectantly. 

“Come here.”

Will stared at him in confusion and flushed heavily at the command. 

“Are, are you serious?” he asked, voice almost cracking with disbelief and embarrassment.

Mike just looked at him in that unblinking, unreadable way and pointed to his lap again. 

“I… I haven’t really thought about um… you know,” Will tried to say, face still etched in a humiliating red and averted his eyes. 

“Yes you have. You never stop thinking. Your mind’s always moving, the cogs are always turning. You think about and overthink everything, so you must have thought about _that_ by now,” Mike pointed out as clearly as he pointed to his lap. “So come here.”

Will wanted to get up, he wanted to (straddle Mike’s lap obediently) move as far away as he could, dig around in his desk drawers and find the relief he needed from this sudden, panicking feeling of (arousal) solicitude at being thrust into this situation unprepared. Instead, he listened to that command, that voice so similar to how it had been a few nights ago (god, Mike had a great voice. Deep and soothing and autocratic when he wanted it to be) and did as he was told. He eased down onto Mike’s thighs with his back to the other man’s chest instead of facing him (not straddling, as he’d imagined moments before) and waited. When Mike’s hand touched his back again, Will felt gooseflesh rise. 

“Is this okay? I’m I too heavy?” 

“That’s perfect,” Mike confirmed as he ran a hand up Will’s spine to tangle in his hair and massage the back of his scalp. 

Will sighed and tried to relax into the feeling, to get lost in it but it was difficult. It was only made more so when Mike wrapped his free hand around Will’s chest to rest just beneath his throat. 

“What did you decide? What do you need?”

“I… I don’t…”

What _did_ Will need? It wasn’t just a body in his bed, not just a warm form to press against at night. It was a greater, deeper need than that. Will couldn’t name it, but it felt like he might find it here, under Mike’s touches and caresses. And even if he didn’t, maybe Mike would find his own, deeply seeded need in this. Will chewed his cheek and closed his eyes. 

“I don’t know.”

Mike’s hand in his hair kept moving, kept massaging him and Will felt himself relax into it, chin tilting down until it rested against his chest, just above Mike’s other hand. 

“Tell me what you need,” the man behind him said again, tightening his hold in Will’s hair. 

The movement held him still and Will heard himself make a sound, just a small one and he felt his cock twitch with interest. It wasn’t that the grip in his hair hurt, because it didn’t. It was that voice, the tightening of Mike’s grip to show mild displeasure at not being answered honestly when he’d asked a very direct question that Will _had_ spent time thinking about. What should he say?

_I want you to hit me? I want you to hurt me? I want you to have this, I want to give it to you. You’ve spent your whole life suffering and I want to give this to you. I **want** you to have this, to be in control and just do what you want without fear of repercussions. It’s okay, I deserve it. I haven't done anything to help, I’m buying into the system of oppression and I’m benefiting from this and I want you to- to- _

“I want you to be in control,” he breathed, doing the best he could to put his thoughts to word without saying all of them. 

Mike listened and didn’t still his touch on Will’s chest though he did release his grip in Will’s hair to keep stroking through it and over his scalp. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You might think you’re sure now, but things change. Do you know what a safeword is?” Mike asked, breathing against the back of Will’s neck as he spoke.

“N- not really,” Will admitted, a little embarrassed to be asking for this kind of relationship without knowing what it meant or even the terminology involved. 

“It’s something you say if you ever change your mind or want me to stop.”

Will laughed nervously at that and leaned into the touch on his chest. 

“‘No’, or ‘stop’ don’t count?” he asked, still chuckling at how serious Mike was taking all of this… whatever this was. 

_Meaningless sex? Bed buddies? Therapeutic exercises in dominance and submission?_

“No.”

“Oh. Okay…”

“Once we start a scene, it might be part of the game to say ‘no’ or ‘stop’. The safeword is the only thing that counts, and it’s vitally important you understand that. That’s what you say if you’re serious. As soon as you say it, the scene is over and I’ll do whatever I can to take care of you. You’re in total control, okay?”

“I guess…”

“Safeword is ‘red’, understand?” Mike asked as he shifted beneath Will, hands slowing their work. 

“Is that what your safeword was? Before?” Will asked as he squirmed at the feeling of the other man moving, at the feeling of his cock throbbing in the excitement of this conversation. 

Mike didn’t answer at first and Will stopped his movements. 

“There was no safeword.”

“Oh, um… are you okay?” Will asked, trying to calm the uncomfortable rhythm of his heartbeat at that statement, that knowledge. 

“I’m fine. This isn’t about me. This is all about you,” Mike said, returning to massaging Will’s scalp. “Are you ready?”

Will thought about it for a moment, tried to clear his head enough to think and give an honest response (not one fueled by arousal or excitement). 

“Yeah.”

“What’s your safeword?”

“Red.”

“Good boy,” Mike whispered as he shifted his hips and Will on his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today was my first day of classes for this semester and even though I thought I’d have this thing uploaded a lot earlier in the day than I actually managed to, I’m still glad I was able to upload it at all. I had to cut the chapter a little shorter than I anticipated because as those of you who have read my previous works know, once I start a scene like this it just kinda goes on and on and I really didn’t want to have this chapter bordering on 8,000 words or more. So take this as fair warning that there is gonna be some sexual content in the next chapter (and very likely most chapters following that). If this isn’t your cup of tea, run now because there’s no turning back from here. 
> 
> On a personal note, my course load isn’t even full time and I’m still panicking trying to figure out whether or not I crumble under the pressure. lol pray for me y’all. I have to write a sonnet in three weeks and I am absolutely terrible at poetry. I also have to submit a story to a publisher by the end of the semester and that very thought is making me want to cry. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. I hope you’re all doing well and I’ll see you in the next one.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Mike explore their arrangement. Will get's an idea that won't go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Sexual content, breath play, choking, allergies, medical emergencies, homophobic language.

When Mike shifted his hips and moved, Will felt the muscles of the taller man’s thighs flex beneath him. For as slim as Mike was, he had a surprising amount of strength to him, and he moved Will like the other man was nothing more than an afterthought. Will wanted to concentrate on the feeling of those muscles beneath him, but the hand on his chest was so much more distracting once it moved to his throat and rested there, a gentle pressure against his pulse. Will leaned into it, testing the pressure, testing to see whether or not Mike would withdraw from it but all the taller man did was squeeze softly when Will pressed in. 

“Do you like that? Like a little choking, a little breath control, Baby?” the freckled man asked as he shifted his hips and pressed the beginning of his own erection into Will’s ass. 

Will let out a small sound of surprise; not just at how easily Mike fell into character (because it was a character, even the tenor of his voice had shifted), but at the erection itself. Was Mike actually into this, it wasn’t just a chore for him? Now there was a thought ( _a totally irrational one. How into sex could someone be who had been forced to participate in probably every sexual encounter he’d ever had?_ ). Still, Mike had said he’d thought about what Will might sound like and had enjoyed the way Will felt to touch. Will wanted him to have control, so maybe this was okay? Will wanted to raise his hands, wanted to rest them on Mike’s arm, his wrist, and hold tight (and just let go). Will swallowed hard, not sure if he should press into the hand on his throat or into the erection on his ass. 

“Do… do you like it?” he whispered instead, wanting, _needing_ Mike to tell him this was okay, that he wanted it as much as Will did, this it wasn’t one sided and selfish and wrong. 

Instead of answering, the curly haired man released his grip in Will’s hair to move the hand down Will’s back. He spread his fingers and rested it there, palm flat, spanning the distance between the programmer's shoulders. He pressed gently but firmly so that Will had to move forward, lean more heavily into the touch on his throat. It didn’t hurt or block his airflow in any way; it was just frim, secure pressure. Will relaxed into the touch and groaned quietly when Mike shifted again, rolling his hips at regular intervals like waves on the shore. 

“Do you like that?” Mike asked a second time. “Tell me.”

“Y-Yeah…” Will conceded, a little ashamed to be admitting it. 

“Such a good boy,” Mike breathed and leaned forward until his mouth was hovering near Will’s ear. “You have to tell me what you like and what you don’t. So, tell me. Do you like the idea that I could hurt you?”

Will’s breath caught in his throat and he didn’t know if he could have spoken even if he tried. He settled on swallowing again and trying to think about the question. Mike wasn’t _actually_ hurting him in any way, not even the hand on his throat was causing discomfort. If anything, it was _comforting_ to have Mike beneath him, hands on Will’s back, his throat. He was all around, almost wrapped around Will as firmly as he’d been the night he’d held the programmer until Will had fallen asleep. 

Will wondered if he could wriggle away if he wanted to. If things went too far, if it got too rough, would Will be able to get away and defend himself? He didn’t know. Mike was thin, maybe not even outweighing Will, but he was strong. He moved Will with ease and his hands were so big… And Will was at a physical disadvantage when it came to their positions, with that big hand on his neck. Will swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

_Do **you** like that? Do you like that you could hurt me if you wanted and I wouldn’t mind?_

Will shifted his eyes and glanced to the side, to the space where Mike’s nose rested near his ear and exhaled slowly. Mike’s mouth was near the back of Will’s neck, he could feel hot breath on his skin and it made him shudder. Not in fear, but anticipation. He’d never felt so vulnerable and open and _raw_ before in his life. After a moment, Mike lowered the hand he had on Will’s back to his waist and rested on it. The hand squeezed lightly, the thumb made circles on Will’s hip and he twitched again. 

“Does it scare you?”

“No.”

And it didn’t. Will barely knew Mike and the other man didn’t do anything to help with that; he was so guarded and closed off. Even knowing that, knowing that he _didn’t know_ Mike _at all_ , Will wasn’t afraid. Will didn’t think he would, but even if Mike _did_ flip out and decided he was going to kill Will and make a run for it, that would be okay because Will and everyone like him had it coming. 

“Good. I don’t want you to be scared. This should never be about fear. I want you to trust me.”

Will shifted, pulled back a little to relieve the pressure on his throat and Mike let him. He let Will pull away, relieve the hold he had on the smaller man, showing Will that he could move freely if he wanted to. Will settled back in, jaw resting in the space between Mike’s thumb and index finger. 

“Okay,” Will said and tried to relax into the touch. 

His relaxation was short lived as the hand on his hip tightened it’s hold and started tugging at the material of his shirt to pull it free from where Will had tucked in beneath the waist of his belted slacks. Will clenched his jaw and tried to be still, but every centimeter his shirt moved up from where he’d cinched it made his heart pound and Mike didn’t seem like he was going to stop until it was free. 

“I um… I thought this didn’t have to lead to sex?” 

“It doesn’t. Not unless you want it to,” Mike amended. “Hold still,” he instructed, making Will stop all movements he may have been making. 

When Mike pulled the shirt free, he slipped his long, slender fingers beneath the material and up until his palm rested where it had been between Will’s shoulders again, skin on skin this time. He pressed on Will, massaging and kneading his skin and flesh until Will let go on his tension and relaxed into it. He let himself be moved by the force of Mike’s hand on his back, let his neck press into Mike’s open palm and made a sound deep in his chest as his eyes drifted closed. 

_This is… nice. A lot nicer than I thought it would be. This isn’t scary or painful… Mike’s being… tender? No, that’s not the right word. He can’t feel **tenderness** towards someone like me… he’s being gentle because he doesn't know what I can take and what might scare me off._

“Tell me what you’re scared of.”

Will opened his eyes, distracted from his thoughts by the request. He shifted, adjusted his weight on Mike’s thighs and chewed his lip. 

“Um, sharks I guess?”

The hand on his throat tightened and Will let out a soft sound. 

_There it is. That was a little flare of anger, wasn’t it? He’s mad that I didn’t say what he wanted me to say and he’s telling me so. Okay, so what does he want?_

“No. Tell me what _really_ scares you.”

Will chewed his lip again and pressed into the touch on his back. Mike was still making easy, slow circles there but he was dragging his nails now. Not hard enough to break skin or even hurt, but enough to draw gooseflesh in their wake. Was he supposed to be honest? Or was he supposed to say something kinky like ‘oooohhh ropes and chains daddy. Or those whips I saw in your drawer. Please don’t gag me, I promise I’ll say whatever you want’. 

He almost made himself laugh at the idea of even _trying_ to talk dirty, but managed to stop the urge; Mike likely wouldn't take that well right now. This was something the tall man spoke so seriously about, about the rules and safe words and he probably wouldn’t appreciate Will laughing (even if it was just because he was nervous and making himself blush by even thinking about the… the stuff in the drawer).

The hand on his back kept stroking over him and the one on his throat kept gently squeezing and Will decided on something small, but honest. 

“I’m afraid of public places.”

The hand around his throat loosened and the one on his back kept moving. Will closed his eyes. That must have been the right answer. 

“Groups of people freak me out,” he continued, encouraged by the warmth on his neck from Mike’s breath and how Mike’s long fingers laced up past Will’s unbuttoned collar, past his loosened tie to run through his hair to massage his scalp again. 

“You work in an office building. You took me to the library and the pier and out to eat. How afraid of groups of people can you be?”

Will couldn’t stop the laugh this time; he was too uncomfortable at being called out. He wiggled a little bit and tried to turn to look at Mike but the hand in his hair tightened and held him in place when his skin burned with the sting of his hair being pulled. 

_Jesus, that feels good._

“I have to be a functioning member of society,” Will tried to explain, a little breather than he liked. “I could code remotely, from home. I could order everything I need online and hole up here and never leave but that’s not healthy is it? My mom tells me all the time how unhealthy that is…” he trailed off as Mike’s hand relaxed a little in his hair. “And I took you to the library because I promised I would. I took you to the pier because…” _I wanted to make you happy._ ”Anyway, It doesn’t mean I didn’t need something to take the edge off before we got there,” Will admitted, embarrassed to be voicing something so private. 

Mike’s hand slipped from his hair entirely and returned to it’s place between his shoulders, massaging his skin. He didn’t speak for a long time, only worked on loosening the knots Will had developed in his muscles from hours of tension and hunching over his keyboard. It felt really good and for a moment, Will forgot he’d asked for something less tender than this; that he’d asked for more brutal treatment than was being given. 

“Why does it scare you?”

“Uh, just, generalized anxiety? I guess? Social anxiety? Panic disorder? I can’t keep the diagnosis’ straight and they kinda change based on who I’m seeing at the time to treat them. It gets hard to keep straight after a while.”

“How many doctors are you seeing?” Mike asked, voice soft.

“Right now? One GP and a nurse practitioner. I used to see a psychiatrist but um, when I moved I never did a follow up with his referral so…”

_I don’t want to get pink slipped again. I don’t want to go back to the hospital for another month because of a nervous breakdown. Maybe standing on the roof looking down was a little dramatic but they didn’t need to **hospitalize** me… Mom had a nervous breakdown once and she’s fine. Shit, it’s practically a family tradition by now._.

Will shrugged, not really knowing how to defend his lack of follow through with medical professionals. 

“The ones you’re seeing now, do they both write you prescriptions? You always have pills on you.”

Will hesitated. 

Mike had noticed that? Did he think Will was a strung out junkie pill head? He wasn’t; Will just had a problem ( _not_ with pills, with _anxiety_ ) and he had medication because he _needed_ it. Nevermind that Will had started taking the lorazepam meant for Mike, but Mike wasn’t taking it anyway and it kept Will from having to make follow up appointments for himself (which he hated to do, it was always so uncomfortable) and what did it really matter? It was close enough to the klonopin and valium that Will took anyway and Mike didn’t want it so it wasn’t _stealing_ and the last time he’d transferred doctors they had suggested he get counseling instead of just _giving him the damn meds_ and people looked at him like he was a junkie or like he was sick (god, he hated the looks they gave him). It was just easier this way. What did it matter?

“Yeah. Well, only when I need them.”

Mike shifted and pressed Will forward, _hard_ , so that his throat was pressed more securely into Mike’s hand and more of his back was exposed. Mike ran the hand he had on Will’s back lower, closer to his midsection than his upper back and kept massaging. 

“It doesn’t help? Why? What is it _really_ about groups of people you don’t like? Why do they scare you?”

“I don’t know,” Will whispered, surprised that he could still talk despite the calloused hand on his throat. “They’re unpredictable.”

“What do you mean? What do you think they’re going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are you hiding from?” Mike asked as he pressed his sharp chin between Will’s shoulders and inhaled, ruffling Will’s hair a little. “You hide a lot. What don’t you want people to see?”

“I- I don’t know.”

The hand on his throat squeezed again, more forcefully this time and Will let out a choked sound and moaned, fighting the urge to wiggle and ask for more. The hold wasn't even restricting his air flow; Mike was concentrating on keeping his thumb and index fingers pressed against Will's arteries and slowing down the blood flow and oxygen getting to his brain. It didn't hurt and it wasn't suffocating, not exactly. It was different than Will had expected, that was sure. He could breathe as often as he wanted but was getting light headed and dizzy anyway. Will blinked as his vision started to get cloudy and he made another soft sound. 

“Tell me the truth,” Mike whispered as he moved his chin from Will’s back to his shoulder and rested it there, his mouth right next to the smaller man’s ear. 

“A failure,” Will whispered, not even knowing why he said it. 

It was something he’d never said to _anyone_ who didn’t have a medical license. But who was Mike going to tell? Hadn’t he said this was about trust? How was this supposed to work if Will couldn’t even trust him with a (deeply embarrassing) totally ordinary secret? It was _normal_ to be afraid of other people, to think they might perceive him badly. 

Will had always struggled with social interactions. His best friend in school had always been Dustin, and neither one of them was exactly popular. Both were smart enough, won science fair awards and got put into AP classes that earned them college credits while still in high school, but Will had always felt like an outsider. It hadn’t helped when his first time with any kind of sexual encounter had been with a girl from his chemistry class (ha, it’s funny because they didn’t have any) and it had ended in humiliation after a homecoming football game where she’d gotten bold and palmed him through his jeans to get… no reaction. 

Will had tried, he really had. She was pretty and smart and friendly to him and he _wanted_ to be excited but he just… wasn’t. He’d apologized of course, but it hadn’t mattered; the damage was done and couldn’t be taken back. She’d avoided him for the rest of the year and Will thought he saw people whispering about him after that. He’d even stuttered and failed his final speech for persuasive arts when he thought he saw someone laughing behind their hand at him, and he could have sworn he heard the word ‘faggot’ more than once that year. 

Will was a screw up and a failure and he’d ridden Dustin’s coattails to every award and good grade he’d ever gotten, but he couldn’t coast off of Dustin for that; for sex. Everyone had known that Will Byers couldn’t get it up for girls and they started calling him ‘Zombie Boy’ because getting his dick up was as difficult as raising the dead. Will felt himself burning red with embarrassment at the memories and the confession. 

Mike released his hold on Will’s throat (a welcome relief considering how Will could feel himself starting to hyperventilate) and began alternating between pulling Will’s hair and massaging his scalp until Will was moaning softly, suddenly more embarrassed by the sounds he was making than he had been by the confession and memories. Mike shifted and rolled his hips beneath Will, making all of his blood rush low in his body and drawing another sound from the programmer. If nothing else, Will was at least distracted. Mike was here and he was _hard_ and he wanted Will; in some way at least, even if it wasn’t driven by or born from affection.

Will wanted to get lost in this, forget his awkwardness, his anxieties, the coding he hadn’t completed. He wanted to fall into this feeling and let go, let himself be moved and used and hurt if he deserved it. He leaned into every touch, every feeling of warmth and pressure, every ounce of contact Mike gave him as he moved. 

It did feel good, to get that secret off of his chest. It felt good to be touched and controlled and directed by gentle pressure and whispered orders. Will was writhing, trying to melt into it and forget his shame when Mike’s hand around his throat raised to his mouth and the tall man pressed two fingers against his lips.

“Your mouth is so pretty, I just want to touch it. Tell me if you don’t-”

Will hissed and opened his mouth before Mike could even finish his sentence and for the first time, he _heard_ Mike make a sound of arousal in return. Will drew the fingers in, sucking on them and ran his tongue around them, tasting Mike’s skin. He tasted like salt and ink and Will sucked harder, dragging the knuckles of Mike’s fingers against his teeth. 

_Make that sound again, please. You never do **anything** to let me know what you’re thinking. Please do it again._

And he did. Will was practically deep throating Mike’s long fingers by the time the taller man gripped his hair roughly and drew Will’s head back with an audible moan. It was a sound that reverberated deep from Mike’s chest to Will’s ear and Will whined in return. When he finally raised his hands and gripped Mike’s wrist, desperate to hold him in place, Will was practically vibrating with want. 

_Come on, please, give me something. Give me **anything**. _

Mike was finally moving erratically and without control, grinding into Will and fucking his fingers into Will’s mouth and Will was acting as wanton as he had ever dared. And then Mike urged him up, onto his feet, and then his knees. Will was reluctant to go when the hand in his mouth withdrew, he didn’t want to give it up until he realized what it was Mike was asking him to do. Will blinked up at the other man from his kneeling position, face flushed and heart pounding as he wondered if this was finally, _finally_ going to progress.

“Unzip your pants,” Mike instructed, voice low and commanding as he returned a hand to Will’s hair to card through it. 

Mike didn’t have to ask twice and Will struggled to undo his belt. The shaking in his hands was only made worse when Mike pressed his still wet finger against Will’s lips again and Will opened willingly for him. Mike stood over him and looked down, one hand still stroking through Will’s hair and the other thrusting long fingers slowly in and out of Will’s mouth. 

“Touch yourself.” 

Will twitched at the command and dipped his hands low. He raised himself up on his knees and slipped his slacks down his thighs before taking himself in hand and squeezing. He whined again as he did, not even having realized he was as hard as he was (the zombie had risen) and began stroking. Mike was still carding his fingers through Will’s hair and looking down at him, brown eyes dark as he watched the programmer on his knees look up at him. 

“You look good like that, Baby. Really good.” 

Will hissed again, eyes watering a little as he sucked and touched. 

“Bet you’d look even better with my cock in your mouth.” 

Will shivered, totally shocked by being spoken to like that. He closed his eyes and whimpered, hoping that was enough permission for Mike to do it. 

_Let me blow you. Please, let me suck you off._

It was lucky, honestly, that Mike’s fingers were in his mouth because if they hadn’t been, Will might have asked and that would have been even more humiliating than admitting he was scared of crowds and had an anxiety disorder or two. Not because Will had never had a dick in his mouth before, but because he knew it would have come out as a _beg_. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Mike whispered, hand tightening in Will’s hair. 

It snapped Will back to attention, made his eyes pop back open as he realized what Mike was upset by; Will had stopped touching himself. He’d been too distracted by the idea of Mike fucking into his mouth with his dick instead of his fingers to even concentrate on jerking off. The grip in his hair pulled roughly and Will let his head fall back until his neck was stretched as far as it would go and that tight feeling in the corner of his eyes felt more threatening than it had before. 

Will jerked faster, trying to make up for how he’d disappointed Mike. It seemed to work because the taller man was back to those gentle strokes through his hair and the softly spoken praises. 

“You’re perfect…” Mike whispered, still moving his fingers in Will’s mouth slowly. “Look so perfect like this.” 

Will felt his nose start to sting a little. Why the hell was he on the verge of tears? Nothing bad was happening to him, he didn’t feel anxious or upset. It had to be because this was the most Mike had shown him, the most emotion (even if it was probably fake) and the most physical contact they’d had since that night. Shit, this might have even been _more_ than that. This was better, _so much better_ than being too drunk (and high) to remember what had even happened, how Mike had acted. Will was sober as the day he was born, and Mike was looking at him with those dark eyes and he looked… relaxed? _Happy?_ He wasn’t smiling, but his expression was as open as Will had ever seen it and it was making some deep, uncomfortable emotion swell in the shorter man and all Will wanted to do was _see more of it_. 

_Open up. It’s okay, you can open up to me. You can show me who you are. If this is about trust, shouldn’t it go both ways? I told you… not everything exactly, but I laid bare my fears at least. Give me something to work with, **anything**. You don’t need to hide, I’m not going to hurt you._

But Mike didn’t. He didn’t give an inch other than to keep whispering quietly and encouraging Will to continue on. When Will knew he was close, he slowed down his hands and sped up his tongue. Didn’t Mike want this? Didn’t he want Will to touch him too? This was the perfect time; Will was on his knees and willing and _wanting_ to do this, didn’t Mike want him too? Didn’t he have desires? When Will slowed his pace, Mike started muttering a little faster. 

“Come on, cum for me. I want to watch you.” 

Will panted, almost a cry, and sped up again. His hands were still shaking and when he went, it was intense. It shook his body and Will was trembling through it. He knew he was making sounds, knew he was keening with his release and he wanted to look away, ashamed at the noise, but Mike’s grip in his hair was unrelenting and there was nowhere to look than at the other man as his fingers moved in and out of Will’s mouth with purpose. When Will released, he couldn’t even let his head drop to his chest when he went lax, the grip in his hit was so tight. Mike held him firm through the whole thing but finally let his fingers fall from the other man’s mouth to stroke his jaw, his cheek. It was gentle, more intimate than Will had expected and he leaned into it, nose still burning as wet marks from his own saliva made trails across his stubble. He made a quiet sound of protest when the freckled man released his hair and took a step back and away to admire his work. 

“Do you feel better?” 

What? What a weird thing to ask. Will was drained; emotionally, physically, and psychologically… and he did feel a little better. Will nodded slowly, face finally dropping enough for his chin to rest against his chest and Mike touched his hair again. 

“Good. I’m going to start the shower for you. I want you to get cleaned up and I’m going to cook you something. You’re going to eat, and then work for another hour, no more than that. Then you’re going to sleep. Understand?” 

Will raised his head and blinked, confused. Didn’t Mike want to… to finish? Will was still willing, still ready to help. He opened his mouth to speak and said 

“You can cook?” instead of what he really wanted to ask. 

Mike gazed down at him, the beginning of a half smile on his mouth before it faded. 

“You do realize you have about a dozen cookbooks in your kitchen, right?” 

Will hesitated, trying to remember if he’d ever noticed them other than to unpack. 

“I um, I think I just kinda use them as decorations…” _I’m a miserable cook_. 

Mike gave him that half smile again and then it was gone. 

“I figured as much. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

** 

Mike had been right; Will _did_ feel better after their… encounter. And strange as it had been, as forced and awkward as Will had expected it to be… everything was fine. It was weirdly normal in fact. They’d eaten the quiche Mike had made and actually _talked_ during the meal, exchanged jokes and Mike even bumped his shoulder against Will’s in a playful nudge when he told Will to ‘get his lazy hide back to work’. 

And Will had. He worked for exactly one hour until Mike came and collected him and he hadn’t gotten even one tension headache. 

The reply to the email he’d sent Mr. Clarke about how his conversation with Mike had gone had gotten an unexpected reply though. 

_‘If he hasn’t talked to you about it yet, then it’s not my place to do so. I’m sorry, but it was a personal conversation and it’s not my place to share what was said. I’m happy to keep talking to him and to you, but what either of you share with me is private unless **you** choose to share it with each other.’_

Well, that was fair Will supposed. Why had Will felt like he had the right to ask for that information in the first place? Because Mr. Clarke was his friend? Because Mike was a Domestic? Because Mike was _his_ Domestic? Did that automatically mean Will should be privy to every little thing Mike said or did? No; and Will felt a wave of shame for even having asked in the first place. Will set up another meeting for the next week. 

Mike seemed to mean what he said too; about all the things staying the same between them once a scene was over. How did he do that? How did he compartmentalize so well? Will couldn’t do that. He hadn’t been able to stop blushing for days after. That hot, flushed feeling would show up every time Mike looked at him. It was so bad that Will couldn’t even maintain eye contact while they were eating on their lunch break three days later. All he could think about was how Mike had looked at him, the sound of his voice and when they could do it again. 

It was the first time Will had felt comfortable enough to leave the office to take their lunch break. Normally Will would eat at his desk but Mike had seemed antsy and restless. He kept pacing around and disappearing only to reappear once the rest of the team had dispersed. So Will had suggested they actually go out, give Mike a chance to stretch his legs and burn off some of the anxious energy he had that day. The weather was good and Will didn’t mind having to increase his walking speed to keep up with Mike’s long stride. 

Mike had stopped walking near a taco stand, just for a second, to look at their menu. Even though Mike hadn’t asked and even though Will still wasn’t sure about eating food prepared on the street, he suggested they try it. Mike did that strange look, the one that meant he was happy but didn’t want people to know, and accepted the offer with a quiet ‘thank you’. 

The taller man’s stomach was still too sensitive for anything spicy so Will ordered him three chicken tacos with just lettuce, tomatoes, guacamole, sour cream, and shredded cheese. Mike had been enjoying it while Will picked at his own food (how often did the employees change their gloves?) when Mike started coughing a little. Will didn’t think anything of it at first. It wasn’t until that cough turned into a wheeze and Mike started looking a little red that Will started to actually worry. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, finally looking up long enough to see Mike’s face. 

The taller man waved a hand dismissively and pounded a fist against his chest to clear his airway as another coughing fit came on. Will watched, alarm growing, as Mike started tugging at his tie and buttons of his shirt. His lips were always full, but didn’t they look a little swollen right now? Will rose to his feet, unsure what to do, and moved towards Mike unsteadily. 

“Mike, hey, can you breathe?” he asked, his vision narrowing to pinpoints the longer the freckled man coughed. 

Mike shook his head and kept pawing at his throat. He was leaning forward a little and was clutching at the table to stabilize himself as his coughing made his whole body shake. 

“Shit, are you choking?” 

_Idiot. That doesn’t make sense. If he was choking he wouldn’t be able to cough like that._

Mike coughed again and people were looking now. A few were whispering, even pointing. Will couldn’t focus on them though; Mike had pulled his tie loose enough and had actually ripped a button off his shirt to give himself air and the skin he’d exposed doing so was red and blotchy, raised even. Will reached out and touched Mike’s shoulder, trying to help keep him stable. People were looking at them and Will _hated_ people looking at him and- 

-And Mike reached up to grip Will’s hand on his shoulder. His grip was strong and helped Will focus on him, on his wide brown eyes. The whites around his iris’ were a little red and he looked scared. It was too similar to how he’d looked when he was laid out on the floor after the collar had shocked him when he’d tried to leave the apartment. He was scared and clawing at the exposed collar (that fucking thing again) and he was looking at Will with his eyes wide and afraid. Even his fingers felt clammy when Will squeezed them back. 

“I’m going to call 911, okay?” Will said, voice shaky as Mike squeezed his hand again, seeking reassurance. “You’re gonna be fine.” 

The second ambulance ride was no less nerve wracking than the first had been, but at least this time Mike was awake and responsive for it. The EMTs had given him a dose of epinephrine and even though Mike had looked more scared by that than the fact that he couldn’t breathe right, he’d stayed still and squeezed Will’s hand (so hard Will thought there was a very real chance Mike might crack it). Will smiled through the pain and let him; Mike needed someone to be there for him and Will was more than willing. 

“Hey, you’re okay. I’m right here, okay? I’m got going anywhere, I’ve got you.” 

Mike had nodded but was still clawing at the collar even as the swelling around his throat and mouth was going down. Will looked over to the EMTs. 

“Can you take that off him? He can’t breathe.” 

“I’m sorry Sir. I’m not authorized to do that.” 

“Well he’s my- I’m his-” Will stuttered, not sure how to say it. “He’s under contract with me. _I’m_ telling you to take it off.” 

“I’m sorry Sir. You’re not authorized to do that either. It might be causing some discomfort, but I assure you, your Domestic can breathe.” 

Will felt a swell of rage at that and he clenched his jaw. 

“But he’s _mine_. I’m telling you to take off the damn collar.” 

The EMT looked uncomfortable (good) and shook her head again. 

“I’m so sorry. Even if I had the code for it’s collar, I couldn’t remove it. That’s tampering with Noble Synergy property.” 

“You’re telling me there isn’t an emergency procedure in place to remove it? _He can’t breathe_ ,” Will hissed, anger making his voice tight. 

“I’m sorry. The Domestic is not in any imminent danger. I _can’t_.” 

Will swallowed his rage and looked back down at Mike who was watching the whole exchange. He did look a little better, less red and panicked, but even though the swelling had gone down that fucking collar was barely loose enough to give the tall man any range of movement with his neck. Will pushed down his anger and squeezed Mike’s hand again, trying to be calm and even when he spoke to Mike. 

“It’s gonna be okay. _You’re_ gonna be okay,” Will said as reassuring as he could. “We’re almost there. I promise.” 

Mike nodded and kept his eyes on Will the rest of the ride. 

Mike had to be admitted for observation even though the reaction was under control now. Will was given a prescription for epinephrine and he filled it immediately, making a mental note to keep one of the epi pens on him at all times. The doctor had suggested they do a full allergen screening; something easy, just a skin test. All they had to do was prick Mike’s back with a needle contaminated with the suspected allergens and watch the skin for results. No known allergies were in Mike’s file but adult onset allergies weren’t that uncommon. A full allergen panel wasn’t the worst idea. Will signed the release, not willing to take a risk that Mike might have other, hidden allergies that could hurt him. 

Mike hadn’t seemed thrilled by that, but he kept himself cool and unreadable. Still, he was shaking a little when they asked him to lay on his stomach and take his shirt off. Mike had done what he was asked but he buried his face on the crook of his elbow and stayed hiding there. When Will had seen him for the first time, at the facility, wasn’t he being punished for not cooperating for a medical exam? Didn’t the facility say he was afraid of needles? Will stood next to the freckled man and laid a hand on one of his thin, shaking shoulders, and tried again to offer comfort. 

The results were that Mike had a severe allergy to the avocados and a mild sensitivity to latex. That one wasn’t serious though, would probably only cause itchy eyes if ingested and maybe hives on his skin. Will bought some benadryl to keep with the epi pens. 

Now, Will sat and watched Mike lounge around waiting to be discharged in his hospital gown and that damn collar. Will opened his phone for the first time since entering the hospital and froze. 

_Hey Byers, where are you? You coming back?_

_You were supposed to be back like, an hour ago. You alright?_

_You know you had a presentation today right?_

And the most terrifying one, the one from Mr. Dante. 

_**Where the hell are you, Byers? You better have a good excuse for not being here. My office, 8am.** _

Will felt a lump in his throat and a tightness in his chest. He’d be there tomorrow with the hospital discharge papers. It was going to be okay, he couldn’t be punished for a medical emergency could he? Will shifted and ignored the texts, opting instead to write one of his own. 

_Hey Scott, it’s Will. Do you know anything about correctional collars?_

Will didn’t mind that Mr. Clarke didn’t get back to him right away. It was seven at night on a weekday, he was probably at dinner or with a student. Will waited and watched Mike fidget on the bed; another nagging, pecking idea forming in his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting this week I am probably only going to be able to upload one chapter a week and rotating between which story gets the update. I apologize, but my school work is a lot more intensive than I expected. Thank you so much for your patience and understanding. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Be well and take care of yourselves.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has to face the music for his absence at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Anxiety attacks, mentions of bullying.

Will fidgeted as he stood outside of Mr. Dante’s office and waited to be called in. He’d arrived at seven thirty even though the text had said to be there at eight, so Will was stuck shuffling his feet outside in the windowless hall while he squeezed the papers and waited to be called upon. He had practiced the speech he’d prepared in his defense more times than he cared to admit, but what else was he supposed to do? What other coping mechanism did he have to battle this vexatious anxiety that pulsed and thrummed in his chest the longer he waited for the door to open? Will knew his mouth had been moving while words silently slipped passed them over and over; he'd been unable to stop them despite every effort he had made. 

_I apologise, Sir. I should have called to tell you I couldn’t make it in yesterday to give my presentation, that’s one hundred percent on me. There was a medical emergency, it completely slipped my mind until I saw your message. These are the hospital discharge papers. Again, I am so sorry, Sir. It will never happen again._

That sounded alright, didn’t it? It was an apology, an acceptance of guilt, and if Will looked appropriately repentant and remorseful the whole time, he’d be forgiven, wouldn’t he? They couldn’t _fire_ him because he’d taken Mike to the hospital. Could they?

No, absolutely not. That was a ridiculous thought to have. This was Noble Synergy, they specialized in Domestics and it was in Will’s contract through them that Will was legally bound to get Mike medical attention whenever the dark haired man might need it. Still, even knowing that Will was under contract to provide any necessary medical treatment, even having the hospital discharge papers in hand, despite having arrived thirty minutes early and totally prepared to defend himself, Will couldn’t seem to relax. 

Mr. Dante was already in a meeting and his office had no windows Will could peer into. On one hand, it was a blessing. No one else had to bear witness to the shame employees had of being dressed down when they were called into the office for their fuck ups. But for Will, it was a curse. Who was the meeting with? Was Mr. Dante in there right now with the security team ready to escort Will from the building while he packed his meager belongings and was kicked out because of his transgression? 

_Stop it. They aren’t going to fire you. Calm down. You always do this. Stop making mountains out of molehills. You’re just upsetting yourself._

Will furrowed his brow in effort as he tried to stop his racing thoughts and jumped back when Mr. Dante’s door was pushed open. Will hurried to stumble out of the way when Mr. Walsh stepped out and looked him over. Mr. Walsh didn’t seem surprised to see Will, didn’t even blink when Will stuttered out an apology and tripped over himself to get out of his supervisor’s way. 

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Will. You’re here early.”

“Yes Sir. I have a meeting,” Will tried to explain even though he felt so intimidated to be face to face with his tall superior that he was having trouble keeping his eyes up and off of his shoes. 

“Call me Troy,” the man said, not exactly offering a smile but not using his stature and position to intimidate Will even further. 

“Sorry, Troy,” Will corrected as he squeezed the discharge papers a little tighter. “I have a meeting with Mr. Dante. I missed half the day yesterday and he asked me to come to his office to discuss it.”

Troy shifted and put his hands in his pockets as he looked Will over with a critical eye. 

“I know. James told me.”

Will froze at that and felt his face blanch. Walsh and Dante talked about him? Will wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Yeah, it was great that they remembered Will well enough to talk about him but if the subject was his truancy… Well. Is that what they had been talking about just now? Was Mr. Walsh in the office with Mr. Dante just a moment ago to sign off on Will’s dismissal? Will was saved from his spiraling thoughts fairly quickly though, if you could count Mr. Dante coming to the doorway and looking down at him as being saved. 

“Byers. You ready?”

“Yes Sir,” Will confirmed, letting himself take a breath as Mr. Dante turned on a heel and walked back into his office without waiting to see if Will was following. 

Will glanced down at himself and adjusted his messenger bag so he at least looked more put together than he felt. He jerked a little when Mr. Walsh patted his shoulder and drew the younger man’s attention back to the project head. 

“Good luck kid. You’ll be fine.”

“T-thanks Sir.”

Will felt a little better after that, after the encouragement from his superior. If Mr. Dante and Mr. Walsh had already talked to each other about Will and if Mr. Walsh seemed to think things would be fine, maybe they would be. 

“Hey, James told me you’re working on a side project,” Troy mentioned, hand still lingering on Will’s arm. 

Will looked down at the hand but it fell away as Troy took a step back. 

“Yes Sir. It’s not ready. Nowhere near it actually, but I was hoping I’d be able to present it to you eventually.”

Troy nodded and shifted his weight again until he was almost encroaching on Will’s personal space. Will either had to step back into the wall or stay still and hold his ground. Will backed away and felt the wall press against his back and legs. Troy didn’t seem to notice though and he spoke again. 

“I’d be interested to see it as soon as you have something to present. There is a tech expo in September with all of the upcoming products. If you’re interested in innovations and have the drive for it, it wouldn’t be a bad opportunity for you. Lots of higher ups attend. I think our head researcher for Domestic Behaviour, Cognition, and Health is going to be there. He’s my boss’s boss. You impress him and you’re pretty much set.”

Will was surprised, taken aback really. That was a generous invitation, an opportunity to advance his career in ways Will hadn’t even imagined before, and instantly images of success and his own product line began dancing through his head.

“Sir, are you inviting me along?”

Troy laughed, a harsh, brittle sound and Will recoiled even further against the wall, pressing his shoulders to it. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Will. You need to have something to present first. You just told me it’s nowhere near ready, remember? Get me a demo by July and we’ll talk about it again. Sound good?”

“Y-yeah. Sounds great,” Will said, mind racing again. 

He had two months to get a demo ready. Six weeks really if he wanted it to be done by the beginning of the month rather than near the end. Mr. Walsh hadn’t specified _when_ in July he wanted the demo, so Will needed to get as much ready in as short of a time frame as he could if he wanted to have something workable to present and secure his invitation. Will blinked to clear his mind and looked at his superior again and Mr. Walsh took a step away. 

“Byers!”

Will winced at the sound of Mr. Dante’s voice raised in agitation and he slipped by Troy towards the office door. 

“I have to go.”

“I can see that,” Mr. Walsh said with a strained grin. “James has been pissy all week. Good luck. Enjoy the lion’s den.”

Will grimaced but offered a smile in return, hoping it seemed more humorous and good natured than how he actually felt. Will stepped past Mr. Walsh, into the office, and immediately stumbled when Mr. Dante snapped ‘Close the door behind you’ at him. Will hurried to do so and quickly turned to face his boss who had settled into the chair behind the desk. Will shuffled his feet a moment before Mr. Dante motioned him forward. 

“Well? Where were you? Any particular reason you decided to take a half day with no notice?”

“I-I’m sorry Sir. There was a medical emergency. I had to go to the hospital and it all happened so fast and I forgot to call,” Will said as he took a step forward to hand the discharge papers over. “I’m so sorry Sir. It will never happen again.”

_There. Perfect. Delivered exactly the way I practiced._

“Really,” Mr. Dante said, apparently unimpressed. “You don’t look ill or injured.”

Will hesitated, mouth suddenly a little dry. 

“It wasn’t me, Sir. It was Mike. He had an allergic reaction and I had to call 911-”

“-Who?” Mr. Dante asked, finally picking up the papers Will had offered him. 

“Mike. He’s my… You know, tall guy? Dark curly hair?” Will said, no sure how else to describe the man who lived with him. 

“Your Domestic?”

Well, yes. He could have said that. 

“Yes Sir.”

“You took a half day with no notice to go to the hospital with your Domestic,” Mr. Dante said as he quirked one eyebrow. “Did I understand that correctly?” He asked, a disbelieving look on his face. 

“Ye… Yes Sir,” Will breathed, a little less sure than he had been a moment earlier. 

“Okay. I just want to be sure I’m getting the right picture here, Byers. Your Domestic had an allergic reaction? What, hives? Watery eyes?” he asked with a half laugh. 

Will winced that time and tried to control his expression. 

“Anaphylactic shock, Sir. He couldn’t… He was suffocating.”

Mr. Dante looked Will over, laugh fading a little. 

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Is it alright?”

Will relaxed a little thought he didn’t care for Mike being referred to as ‘it’. 

“He’ll be fine.”

Mr. Dante shifted in his chair and glanced at the paperwork again, apparently unperturbed by Will correcting how he referred to the freckled man. 

“So you missed work, didn’t bother to call, for an allergic reaction that turned out to be fine. For a Domestic.”

Will felt his expression freeze as Mr. Dante spoke. The eyes on him felt heavy and Will glanced at the paper’s in Mr. Dante’s hands. He hadn’t even _read_ them yet. Didn’t he realize how serious the situation had been? It’s not like Will had been playing hooky, Mike could have _died_. 

“He was sick… I had to take him to the hospital,” Will said slowly, trying again. He really wished Mr. Dante would just look at the discharge papers instead of barely glancing them over; then he would understand. “He’s” _my friend_ “ my responsibility. I have to get him medical attention when he needs it.”

Mr. Dante sighed and rubbed the pads of his fingers across his brow like he was chasing away a growing headache Will was giving him. 

“Of course you have to get it medical attention but you didn’t have to go to the hospital and miss work. All you had to do was sign a release form and one of the company representatives would have acted as a medical proxy for you until the Domestic was ready for discharge. You didn’t have to throw an entire day away on one of them,” Mr. Dante explained, apparently irritated with Will for what had happened. “This your first one?”

“I’m sorry,” Will said, throat tight with… anger? “Yes, Mike is my first.” _My only one. I’m not going to keep having and replacing them like upgrading a tv. I’m not like that. I wouldn’t have had one at all if it wasn’t insisted upon._

Was he _angry_ that Mr. Dante was implying that Mike didn’t need Will, didn’t _deserve_ to have a familiar face with him when he was going through something like that? Will doubted a Noble Synergy proxy would have tried to advocate for Mike. He doubted one would have stroked Mike’s shoulders to ease his shaking or… or held his hand when he was scared. 

And that’s what Mike had needed when he’d been bent over and coughing against the table. When Will had touched him, Mike had reached up and squeezed his hand. Mike had done it again in the ambulance when they’d given him the epinephrine injection. Even when it was over Will had let his thumb run over Mike’s knuckles to remind him that Will was there and that it was going to be okay. It wasn’t _romantic_ with bashful smiles and fingers interlaced. It was just a reminder for Mike that he wasn’t alone and didn’t need to be scared. Mike had needed that and he’d been reluctant to release Will’s hand when the stretcher was being moved (and truth be told, Will had let his own hand linger a little longer than was strictly necessary). Will doubted a Noble Synergy proxy would have done that for Mike. 

Will knew that’s what Mike had needed. When he’d finally been discharged and Will was able to take him home, the taller man had been… not _clingy_ exactly, but a little more resistant to being alone? He didn't try to seclude himself on the balcony or excuse himself to go to bed. Instead, he’d stayed where Will set him up on the sofa and even though he didn’t actually say anything, he looked at Will long and hard enough that the younger man knew he was being asked to stay. Will had flipped on the television and rented movie after movie and just stayed there for hours until Mike’s eyes grew heavy and tired. Even after Mike dozed off and his head rolled to the side, almost touching Will’s shoulder, Will sat next to him in the silence of the room just listening to him breathe. Will had been half tempted to let himself fall asleep as well, but couldn’t justify taking up so much room on the sofa when Mike had been too tired to make it to his room. Will had slipped away after draping a sheet across the taller man and returned to his own room to sleep even though it was difficult to detach and move away at all. 

So yeah, Will was angry that Mr. Dante was acting like any random person would do when it came to who Mike deserved to have with him during such a frightening experience. 

Mr. Dante sighed and leaned back as he pushed the papers away without ever reading them. 

“You’re kind of a bleeding heart, aren’t you Byers? Look, I know you’re new to this, but you can’t skip out on work for stuff like this. Unless there’s an actual emergency, you need to at least call.”

“I’m sorry…” Will whispered, still choking down the flare of anger he felt. 

“I have to write you up, Byers. I don’t want to but it’s protocol. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not that serious. Just keep your nose clean and get your shit done and it’ll be fine,” Mr. Dante added when he saw Will go even paler at the statement. “It’s not like I fired you for God’s sake.”

Will lowered his head and nodded, trying to keep his eyes focused on the smooth wood instead of darting back and forth while his thoughts raced. The anger was gone now. Now he wanted to bolt, to run to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face and just hide until he was calm enough to think. 

Will had never been in trouble before. Well, not _real_ trouble. Of course he got scolded for ignoring his chores and skipping out on band practice from time to time, but that was about it. He’d never even had a detention that wasn’t caused by someone else dragging him into a fight (and all Will had ever done was defend himself but any physical altercations had to be punished, so even though Will was never the aggressor, he was punished anyway). Will had always been a teachers pet, had never had a run in with the law, and had never even goofed off on his phone when he’d gotten his first job as a restaurant host as a teenager. Being scolded had always been enough to keep him in line, there had never been a need to actually _write him up_ and keep documentation of his errors and transgressions before. 

Will stared at the wooden desk and at the discharge papers and tried to control his breathing. He had to figure out what he was supposed to do now, how he was supposed to get out of this undeserved discipline. Even when he got detention the teachers knew it wasn’t _his_ fault and usually let him go a little early. This… this didn’t seem fair. 

If Mike had just been a roommate, someone Will lived with who had a medical emergency would Will be standing here right now getting chewed out and written up? Will doubted it. Mike was a Domestic and instead of sympathy, Will had to stand here and listen to lectures on protocol and proxies. Why didn’t Mr. Dante understand that Will had been scared and distracted and just _forgotten to call_? It hadn’t been intentional, was that really so unforgivable?

Mike _needed_ Will yesterday. Didn’t that count for anything?

Apparently not. The look Will had gotten when he said that it was _Mike_ that had needed hospitalization…. When Will had explained that he’d missed work for a _Domestic_.... Well. That just wasn’t good enough. Will raised his eyes and straightened his back again. 

“Sir, when would you like me to give my presentation?”

Mr. Dante glanced up like he’d already forgotten Will was there. 

“That won’t be necessary. When you didn’t show up, we got into your computer and extracted the files. Sims presented.”

Oh. That was an awfully casual way of reminding Will that he was replaceable. All of his work was synced with the computers here and anyone could access them whenever they wanted. Sims was a tech, not even a programmer, and he’d managed to get the files and present them with little to no difficulty. They didn’t really need Will at all and Mr. Dante was letting him know that.

He hesitated as he looked at the discharge papers, unsure if he should take them or not. Mr. Dante was back to looking at his computer and ignoring Will, so the younger man cleared his throat to draw attention back to himself. 

“Yes? Did you need something else, Byers?”

“Can I… The…” Will whispered as he eyed the papers. 

Mr. Dante looked down to where Will’s eyes lingered. 

“Oh, of course,” he said as he pushed the papers towards Will who gratefully scooped them back up. “You can go.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Will breathed, averting his eyes. 

Will took a step back, grateful to be dismissed. As he turned to go, he was stopped by Mr. Dante speaking again. 

“What caused it?”

“I’m sorry?” Will asked, glancing back. 

“The reaction. For your Domestic.”

“Oh, avocados.”

“Mmmhmmm,” Mr. Dante murmured noncommittally as he kept his eyes on the computer screen. “Well, make sure to keep it clear of them then.”

“Yeah…” _Obviously…._ “Of course,” he finished with a whisper.

When Mr. Dante didn’t acknowledge him again, Will hurried to excuse himself. 

**

Will was grateful to be away from Mr. Dante’s office, grateful to be alone in the hall and on his way back to his little workspace in the corner. People were filing in now one at a time, most still yawning and rubbing their eyes while they exchanged sleepy greetings and their Domestics set up in the work areas. Will felt his eyes linger on the Domestics, on their faces as they worked while their Masters ignored them and spoke to one another. Most of them looked calm and relaxed, if a little blank. The expressions were so similar to Mike’s that it was eerie. Will wondered what they were thinking about, if they were bored or tired or feeling some other thing that they couldn’t show. For the first time, Will had the impulse to speak to them, approach them and greet them as he would a fellow coworker but that didn’t… it didn’t seem proper. Would that draw strange looks to him? Would the Domestics even respond? Will turned away and scanned the rest of the faces, searching for the only one he wanted to see. 

Mike and Will had parted ways after the elevator ride when Will had peeled off towards Mr. Dante’s office and Mike presumably towards their shared work space. Will craned his neck as he raised himself onto his toes to see over the crowds and wave half heartedly at a coworker. Where was Mike? He was tall, his mop of dark hair should be easy to spot over the rest of the employees shouldn’t it? He wasn’t seated at the desk he and Will shared, so where was he?

Will let his eyes wander for a moment longer before he squeezed past two people who seemed to look at him a little longer than usual when he did. Will looked back at them, heart rate spiking. What were they looking at? Did they already know what had happened in Mr. Dante’s office? Did word travel that quick here? Will moved away from them and pressed his hand to his chest briefly before letting it drop again. It felt off, like he had an arrhythmia. Will squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force away the feeling. 

_You’re fine. You’re not having a cardiac incident, you’re just having an anxiety attack because you got written up and Mike’s not here to talk to. Don’t look at anyone. They know you were gone yesterday, they know Sims had to present for you. They know you got written up. Everyone has been here longer than you, they know the protocols. They know you fucked up and their staring at you and now they are all talking about it and about how the new guy is a fucking disaster who skips out on work whenever he wants. You messed up again and everyone knows and-_

_-Stop it. Take a breath._

Will inhaled deeply through his nose and held it before opening his mouth to breath out shakily, exactly the way his therapist told him to. Once, twice, three times before he opened his eyes again. 

Well that hadn’t helped at all. 

He slipped by his coworkers who were still trickling in and headed to the stairwell. He just needed a place to catch his breath and chew up a pill away from the scrutinizing gaze of everyone around him. When he pressed the door open, Will almost fell down the stairs with how badly his legs were shaking by the time he made it into the secluded area and away from everyone else. When he glanced around, Will was so relieved that the stairwell was empty that he almost let out an audible sound as he leaned against the cold concrete wall. After a moment, Will began digging through his pockets for the ziplock bag. He found it easily and threw one of the pills inside into his mouth without bothering to check which one it was ( _it’s a surprise!_ ) and chewed as quickly as he could. 

As the pill dissolved on his tongue, Will finally let his knees give out a little and sank to a seated position on one of the filthy steps. He knew his slacks would be dirty from this and that he’d have to wash his hands (just how many people had touched the handrail since it was last disinfected?) and planted his feet so he could duck his head between his knees. He still had almost half an hour before he needed to actually clock in and get to work. That was plenty of time to settle down so he didn’t make any more of a spectacle of himself than he already had. 

Will stayed hunched over himself for a few minutes before he heard the soft sounds of footsteps echoing in the stairwell. He stood quickly, not wanting to be caught hiding like he was back in the sophomore year of high school, trying to avoid the bullies. Will tugged on his jacket to straighten it as he stood and peeked over the edge of the rail to look down and see who was making the long climb up. 

It was Mike. 

Will breathed a sigh of relief and leaned over the rail to cup his (still unwashed) hands around his mouth. 

“Mike! There you are.”

The dark haired man looked up, surprised to be spoken to. He had a foam cup in one hand and a bottle of something else in the other. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on who was speaking but when he saw that it was Will, he smiled a little. 

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Just getting some air. Hang on, I’m coming down,” Will called, relieved beyond measure that the owner of those soft footsteps was Mike; the only friend he had here, the only person who wasn’t judging him for his unannounced absence the day before. 

Will felt that heavy pressure in his chest lift a little the closer he got to the taller man and he resisted the urge to hurry his pace. He didn’t want to look like he was _running_ to the freckled man, even if the sense of urgency he felt was demanding it of him. Mike, for his part, was making quicker progress with the stairs than Will was. Even with a drink in both hands his balance was good enough and his legs long enough to be able to take the steps two at a time. They met on a landing between floors and Mike extended his hand to offer the foam cup of coffee to Will. 

“Thanks,” Will said gratefully. “You’re a life saver.”

Mike shrugged a single shoulder. 

“It’s not a big deal.”

Will cracked the lid of the cup and brought it to his lips. The coffee was surprisingly sweet and smooth on his tongue. Will had been expecting it to be black, as it was when he ordered it for himself, but this coffee had already been given a generous amount of sugar and just the right amount of creamer. Had Mike taken the time to dress it up exactly the way Will liked it? That was… really thoughtful of him. 

Will took another sip and glanced at Mike who was unscrewing the lid to his own drink. It was one of those waters that tasted vaguely like someone was cutting fruit two rooms away and that some of the scent had inexplicably managed to make it’s way into the carbonation of the drink. Will had never seen Mike drink that stuff before and briefly wondered if the freckled man would even like it. Mike didn’t seem to have any complaints though and he took a long gulp of the stuff. Will leaned against the railing and glanced over the edge and into the cup in his hands. 

Will didn’t remember giving Mike his debit card and the last time he’d offered cash had been for the chinese food. That cash had remained untouched though and Will had found it exactly where he’d left it the next day. Had Mike taken some from Will’s wallet? If he had it was obviously such a small amount that Will hadn’t even noticed. Will considered the question but it didn’t seem likely, so he dismissed the thought and just looked over the rail while Mike shifted next to him. 

“Are you alright?”

Will blinked, startled by the question. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Well, you had a meeting with Mr. Dante earlier and now you’re hiding in the stairwell,” Mike pointed out. “I expected you to already be at the desk typing away. Are you panicking again?”

Will looked away and stuttered, not sure what to say. Was it that obvious? No one else had said anything (not to his face at least. Even though he could feel their eyes and almost hear their whispers as he made his escape to the stairs…) Maybe it _had_ been glaringly obvious and Mike was the only one who was comfortable enough with Will to say anything about it. 

Or maybe Mike just knew Will well enough to pick up on it when others couldn’t. 

Will hoped it was that. He really did want it to just be that he was an expert at concealing his feelings and that Mike could read him anyway, but he doubted it. That tight, uncomfortable feeling in his chest was creeping up again and Will forced a smile. 

“I’m fine.”

Mike looked at him like he didn’t believe Will and leaned a little closer. 

“Give me your hand,” the taller man said as he extended his own, palm up. 

What? Why?

Was Mike trying to hold Will’s hand the way Will had held his the day before, to offer comfort? Will looked at the dark haired Domestic and slowly extended his hand, palm down. He felt Mike’s cool hand against his for only a moment before Mike gently flipped Will’s over and pressed his water bottle against Will’s now exposed wrist. It was cold but the programmer didn’t pull away. He let Mike press the bottle into his skin and watched curiously as the tall man began to roll it over Will in a slow, controlled pattern. 

“What… are you doing?” he finally asked when Mike didn’t let up on the gentle rolls of the bottle against him. 

“This used to help me when I was upset. To have something cold on a pulse point. Here, turn your head,” Mike instructed as he lifted the water bottle, not waiting for Will to actually do it. 

Mike placed one hand on the base of Will’s skull to steady and control him while he used the other to press the cold water bottle against Will’s throat, just under his jaw but above the collar of his shirt. Will relaxed into it even though his first instinct had been to pull away. Mike’s voice was commanding and his hands were sure and firm. Will liked the way it felt to have those big hands on him again, cradling Will’s head and pressed against his throat. Will tried to be still and resist the shiver that tried to pass through him as he remembered the night when there hadn’t been a water bottle between them and he closed his eyes to repress the feeling. 

He concentrated on what was happening now instead. It seemed to be doing the trick too, the bottle against his neck. Will’s face felt a little less hot and his chest hurt less, though that could have been due to the pill that still left a bitter taste on his tongue. 

Will wasn’t sure when he did it, but at some point he relaxed into the touch and let his head roll a little against Mike’s hand and sighed. The bottle felt great, with little beads of condensation forming on it and rolling down Will’s skin to disappear beneath the collar of his shirt.

“Better?” Mike rumbled after a minute, his voice sounding heavy and deep. 

Will opened his eyes and Mike was looking at him. The expression he wore was unusually soft and it made Will squirm to have it directed at him. Will adjusted his relaxed posture, took a step away, and Mike let him. Mike kept his dark eyes on Will despite his movement and the programmer was getting the distinct feeling that Mike _wanted_ to say something but wasn’t going to actually do it. Will cleared his throat and averted his gaze. 

“I’m great, thanks. How’d you know how to do that?”

Mike didn’t say anything for a second, only took a sip from the water bottle. 

“Personal experience. Drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

Will raised the cup again at the reminder and took a long drink. It felt kind of nice to have Mike do that sort of thing; remind him of things and keep him on track when his mind started to wander. Mike was good at it too, at being a caregiver. Will had worried so much before Mike arrived that _he_ wouldn’t be a good one, that he wouldn’t be able to provide the Domestic with everything he needed or wanted. He’d never expected Mike to take on the role himself.

But did he? Did Mike have all the things he needed to be comfortable and happy? Will gave him every _material_ thing he could think of, tried to make sure Mike had every comfort imaginable, but what Mike provided was so much more personal, more physical and emotionally fulfilling. Will chewed his lip. It wasn’t that he was a _cold_ person, unable to provide affection or companionship, it was just that he didn’t feel right projecting those feelings on someone who was trained and disciplined in the art and probably wouldn’t want to have someone’s affections forced upon them. 

“Thanks. I appreciate this, by the way,” he said as he busied himself with taking a drink from the coffee Mike had given him. 

The taller man glanced over and quickly turned away. Was… did he look a little red?

“You’re welcome.”

Will took another sip and kept his eyes on the taller man. Yeah, there looked like there was more color to his face than usual and even his feet, which he normally kept planted and still, were shuffling a little. Was he not used to receiving thanks and gratitude? Probably not. Domestics were _expected_ to provide things; it was their purpose. Who would bother to thank a microwave for warming food or a car for delivering it’s passengers to their destination safely? But Mike wasn’t a machine. He was a person, all Domestics were, and he was probably never even afforded the very basic courtesy of a ‘thank you’ in return for everything he did.

Will leaned against the railing and made a promise to himself to make more of a conscious effort to let Mike know how much Will appreciated him. 

“Hey um, we should get back soon but when we’re done for the day is there anything you wanted to do?” Will asked, still watching Mike, trying to learn how to read his reactions. 

The freckled man shifted and cast a glance at Will. 

“What do you mean?”

“You know, is there anything you want to do after work?” Will asked again, prodding a little. 

Mike moved his weight from one foot to the other and shrugged. 

“I’d like to get my transcriptions done and help you in any other way you might need.”

Will blinked and shook his head. 

“No, I meant, is there something you want to do after work? Not just things you feel like you have to do, things you _want_ to do,” Will clarified, trying again to encourage the other man to say what was on his mind. 

Mike looked him over but didn’t speak for a long time. When he finally did, the words were so soft Will almost didn’t hear them.

“I want to go to the grocery store.”

“What? Really? Is there something you need?” Will asked, confused. 

There hadn’t been anything written on the whiteboard and no one _wanted_ to go to the grocery store. If there had been something written down, Will would have ordered it for Mike. The taller man ducked his head to hide behind his curls and looked away. 

“No, I don’t need anything. I just wanted to look around. I’m sorry.”

Will hated that, how Mike would try and hide behind his hair when he was uncomfortable and he especially hated that Mike was apologizing for something he wanted. Will shifted and looked away too. He hated that he’d been the one to make Mike feel like he had to hide and quickly tried to back track.

“It’s okay. We can check out the store, you don't have to apologize, I was just surprised. Of course I’ll take you. If you see something you want, just tell me. I’ll get it for you.”

Mike nodded but didn’t look back up. Will hesitated for longer than he should before he placed a hand on Mike’s arm to get his attention. Mike felt almost fragile under the touch, like he might collapse or blow away under it. Will tightened his grip to give a reassuring squeeze. 

“Come on. Let’s get going.”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, so sorry for the late update. I’m having a rough time right now and I know this chapter feels like a lot of filler, but it’s really just an exploration of Will’s character and feelings. It does have some relevant details hidden in it that will matter later though. Again, so sorry about how late this update is and that it’s not particularly exciting. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Be well and take care of yourselves.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will asks for something he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: strong sexual content. Implied past abuse. Under negotiation kink. Under negotiation consent. Sexual hangups and issues with shame in regards to sex. Insensitive language towards sex work/‘slutty’ behavior.

Will looked at the screen, listened to the soft hum and buzz of the computer tower (was a fan going out already? He’d have to open the tower and do some maintenance on the hardware when he got the time) and chewed a hangnail in agitation. He bit down on the nail, felt it give beneath the pressure of the bite, heard his teeth click together when he pierced the nail, and tore. At least it didn’t make him bleed this time, even if it had jagged edges that scratched his lips when he pulled it free. Will extracted the nail from between his teeth and flicked it into the trash bin text to his desk. He returned to look at the monitor, eyes burning from how long he’d been staring at it already. 

Now that he had a deadline, an actual real, tangible date that he had to complete his project by, it all seemed so… impossible. He was going to disappoint Mr. Walsh, prove Mr. Dante right about Will’s ambitions and his head being in the clouds. The thought was almost too much to handle and Will cussed under his breath before deleting and entire page of code in frustration. 

Will lowered the hand he’d been worrying at and used it to lift his glass of scotch and took a long, slow drink. Will liked the way the ice sounded when it moved against itself, a gentle clicking. He liked the way the liquor burned and cooled his throat all at once, and the way if left him numb, quieted the static of his mind. In honesty, Will didn’t care for the taste (not in the slightest) but the bottle had been a gift from his step father, so he may as well drink it. Mike certainly wasn’t going to. He’d refused all offers of liquor, even wine, so Will stopped setting it out during meals.

Across the room, the man in question was curled up on the sofa, headphones in, watching something on youtube and taking notes on what he saw. He hadn’t wanted much from the store, just a few wooden stirring spoons and a couple potted herbs. Will thought it was strange to go all the way to the store for only a few, simple items that could have been easily ordered online, but Mike had seemed pleased with his selection. He’d run his hands over each set of utensils, examining the weight and feel of them until he’d found the perfect ones. He’d bent and sniffed each herb, pinched their leaves and snapped a few off to chew up and swallow, testing the flavor. 

Will had observed the freckled man take his selected plants to the balcony and sit cross legged on the lacquered wood to repot and arrange them lovingly, where they would get the best light. Will watched and ordered a few hanging planters that he could install over the weekend, and another table so the plants wouldn’t have to sit on the floor, where they had a chance of being kicked over. Will had almost asked Mike why the curly haired man didn’t line up the plants on the railing before he hushed himself, remembering that Mike couldn’t even approach the railing without getting shocked.

Will felt a sudden swell of emotion thinking about it; about how tenderly Mike had selected the plants, and how carefully he’d repotted them, sure not to damage the roots. It was… sweet. Will wouldn’t have expected someone like Mike, someone who had so much of themselves stripped away over a lifetime of captivity, to have any of the remaining pieces of their personality even resemble kindness. It was so unfair that someone so careful and mild mannered (at least in Will’s experience with him) was subjected to cruelties beyond his control. Will thought again about the desire he’d had to disable the security system, pack himself and Mike into the car, and take off as far away from this place as he could get, consequences be damned. It wasn’t that he wanted to kidnap Mike and force him to go wherever Will went; he just wanted the other man to be away from danger, away from the company.

That protective, uncomfortably affectionate feeling was suffocating, and Will pushed it away, upset with himself for projecting his feelings onto someone who not only wasn’t in a position to return them, but would probably be upset to even know they existed. 

Maybe Will should get Mike a dog, something that the taller man could take care of and have as a companion instead of Will selfishly taking all of his care and attention; something that could love him purely and unselfishly (not like Will). Did Mike even like animals? But a dog was so much work and it wasn’t like Mike could take it on walks before Will was awake to disable the security system (not yet at least. Hopefully that fucking collar would be gone soon). Maybe a rabbit, a cat, or a bird then. Something to keep Mike company, that he could care for but that he wouldn’t need to take outside. Or maybe that was putting too much pressure and responsibility on someone who’d never expressed one way or another if he even liked animals. 

Will watched Mike jot things down from the corner of his eye and thumbed the outline of his phone where it nestled firmly against his leg. Scott had texted him back earlier that evening with a vaughly cryptic ‘I know someone who might know someone. What do you need? Can you call?’

So Will had. 

It was the strangest interaction he’d ever had with Mr. Clarke. It was all so hush hush, and the way his mentor talked about removing the collar, it was like he was speaking in code and strictly hypotheticals. It reminded Will of being in high school and listening to his classmates talk about buying weed and liquor from college kids. 

‘It’s not exactly legal,’ Scott had said, ‘to tamper with Noble Synergy property. Well, not legal to _modify_ it. I don’t think we’d need to make any modifications exactly to remove a collar. From my understanding, there is a built in flaw that can be, ah, utilized. Let me make some calls.’

So, as back alley as the conversation had felt to Will, it did offer the hope that the collar could be gotten rid of. It would be a relief to Will to finally be rid of it, and undoubtedly to Mike as well. After all, _he_ was the one who was forced to wear it, to feel the weight of it on him at all times, have it chaff against his skin, restrict his movements even within the apartment, and _label him_ as something _other_ , something _lesser_ to any observers. 

Will stretched and sighed. He rolled his neck, cracked it, and quickly finished the drink. It felt silly to be drinking scotch from a plastic mug, especially one as cheap and gimmicky as a mug from Holiday World he’d gotten as a kid. He pushed the mug away and leaned back to recline and lace his fingers behind his head. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize the solutions to the syncing problems his program had, to puzzle them out internally, and he felt his lips moving while he tried to work through it. 

He stayed that way a long while, eyes closed and fingers tapping nervously against his own scalp. There was a flaw in his program, and he wasn’t able to find it; not yet. There was a flaw with the collars too; one Scott had said the two of them could potentially take advantage of to remove the one Mike wore. Maybe Will should ask Scott to look over his code. Hadn’t he offered to, during that first phone call? It couldn’t hurt to have fresh, more experienced eyes look it over. If Mr. Clarke and his friends had been able to see the cracks in a product designed by a multi billion dollar corporation, maybe they could see and pluck out the ones in Will’s. When he opened his eyes, Will almost knocked the chair clean over to land flat on his back with how startled he was. 

Mike’s hands caught the back of the chair and righted it before it could actually tip and fall while he peered down at Will from where he was standing behind the chair. 

“You okay?”

“I- I’m fine,” Will squeaked, still surprised to be greeted by Mike’s sudden appearance, standing over him. 

“You don’t look fine,” Mike said. 

There was no judgment in the statement, it was just an observation. 

“Oh, I’m okay. I was just thinking,” Will said with a forced grin. 

He hadn’t mentioned the collar or potentially having it removed to Mike, not yet at least. There was no point in getting Mike’s hopes up if Mr. Clarke’s friends weren’t actually able to do what Will asked. Will wanted to give Mike hope, but the look of disappointment Will envisioned on Mike’s face at failure was painful, so much more painful than the one of tired resignation he wore almost constantly. There was no point in burdening him with hope and the potential disappointment. Scott would make his calls, he’d talk to his friends, and if there was a good chance at getting the thing off, Will would tell Mike. Just not yet. Not when Will didn’t have anything more solid than a pipe dream to offer. 

“What were you thinking about?” the tall man asked, eyes locked on Will from where he hovered over him. “You look really far away.”

Will blinked and struggled to come up with a lie. 

The lanky man kept looking at him with unreadable brown eyes; waiting patiently for whatever lie Will would supply him. It didn’t look as though he was going to take a step back or let the question go without an answer. Lately, he’d been a little pushier, a little more demanding as far as communication went, but that didn’t bother Will. If anything, he was grateful for it most times. He’d been the one to push Mike to talk, to open up to him, and hadn’t Will wanted companionship, real friendship? Friends asked after each other, checked in on one another. Most of the time Will was pleased when Mike was the one to start a conversation, but not right now. Right now, Will struggled to come up with a reasonable lie so he wouldn’t have to watch the rise and fall of Mike’s demeanor if Will brought up the collars and if his plan failed. Will licked his lips and smiled tightly. 

“Nothing serious.”

He gasped in surprise and twitched when one of Mike’s hands snaked around his throat and rested there, thumb pressed lightly against Will’s jugular. For a moment, neither moved nor spoke. Will was still and quiet while Mike took a moment to watch him breathe.

“You’re lying. Your pulse is elevated.”

Will blinked again and laughed, totally taken off guard. Mike apparently didn’t need a tablet or app to monitor Will; he could read the programmer just fine on his own.

“Well, your hand’s on my neck. You startled me,” Will offered as an excuse; and while it was partially true, Mike had been right on the mark about the lie.

The hand against him squeezed gently and Will drew a breath in between his teeth. Mike didn’t look angry, and the touch didn’t hurt; it was just a quiet reminder of what had happened between the two of them a few nights ago. Will relaxed into it, accepting the unspoken rule that if he lied, Mike would squeeze. Will exhaled slowly and thumbed the armrest. 

“You caught me,” he admitted weakly. “I _was_ thinking about something.”

“Still thinking about how your meeting went?” Mike asked as he ran a thumb across Will’s throat to his jaw. 

Will’s breath caught in his throat and he held it there. Well, he _hadn’t_ been thinking about that, but now that Mike mentioned it… Will swallowed and closed his eyes again while he tried to keep little, panicky thoughts at bay. 

“A little.”

Behind him, Mike shifted and bent forward until he was almost draped across the chair and Will’s back. The coder opened his eyes to watch and saw the freckled man dip his long fingers into the plastic mug and emerge with an ice cube. Will watched, eyes fixed as Mike raised the ice cube and sucked it into his mouth to suck the remnants of the liquor off before returning it to his hand. Will twitched again as he watched, stomach twisting at the sight. Mike released his hold on the younger man’s neck to take him by the wrist and flip it over to expose the underside. Slowly, Mike lowered the ice to Will’s exposed skin to settle the ice on top of it. 

Will shivered, both from the cold and the fleeting thought that this was the first time he’d ever had Mike’s saliva touch him, even if it wasn’t directly from the source. What a crude thought; what an arousing image. Will shivered again and tried desperately to keep his responses at bay while the ice melted against his skin. Mike leaned forward and rested his sharp chin against Will’s shoulder to watch what he was doing while he worked and a curl tickled Will’s nose. It smelled good; clean and somewhat earthy from Mike’s time handling and repotting his plants. 

“I wish you’d say something when you’re upset,” Mike whispered, hand making gentle circles with the ice. “You can tell me you know. I’m here to help you.”

“I…”

Will didn’t know what to say. He twisted his head to watch the taller man’s face which was relaxed, if focused.

“I don’t want to bother you with every little feeling of discomfort I get. If I did, you’d never get a break,” Will laughed weakly, uncomfortable. 

_As much as I wouldn’t mind having you near, tending to all of my needs and wants, that’s too… too selfish, too exploitative. I’m not going to act like that. I’m not one of **them**_.

Mike shifted and leaned his head forward a little so he could press his cheek against Will’s to encourage him to turn his head. Will swallowed down a whimper at the feel of Mike’s sandpaper stubble against him, and let his head roll rather than press into the touch. 

_But fuck, you make it hard not to when you act like this…_

As Will let his head lull to the side, Mike dropped the ice cube back into the mug. Mike’s still wet hand moved to the knot of Will’s tie to loosen it. Will didn’t offer any resistance when the tall man started unbuttoning the collar of the programmer's shirt; he knew the safe word, he could use it if he wanted Mike to stop. 

Mike’s cold hands pulled at the first two buttons and pushed away the material, exposing more of Will’s throat. Those long, delicate fingers reached back into the mug and extracted another ice cube. When he raised this one, Mike used it to trace along Will’s vien while he used his other hand to cup Will’s jaw and tilt his head back. 

Will shuddered at the feeling of the cold ice against his skin but didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling and tried not to stare at Mike from the corner of his eye. This was all so… strangely intimate. The contrast of Mike’s warm breath and the freezing ice was intense, more intense than he’d expected it to be. Just having Mike there at all, having him notice and (Will hesitated to say it, but) _care_ when Will was upset was a concept so foreign it was almost alien. 

No one cared about Will enough to notice when he was upset; no one other than his mom and Jonathan but they were so far away now. Not even the guy Will had had a brief, ill fated relationship with in college had ever really cared for Will or his neurosis. He’d always been impatient with Will. He’d roll his eyes and tell Will to ‘get over it’ when they were in public and Will got nervous, or would scoff and condescend when Will wanted to go to the hospital for what he was sure was life threatening chest pain. Will shoved aside the memory and concentrated on the ceiling, on the dark curls of Mike’s hair that he still felt against his cheek. 

“Thanks,” Will breathed, reminding himself of the promise he’d made to be more appreciative and to take the time to show it. 

“For what?” Mike rumbled, vibrations so near his ear that Will shuddered again. 

“For noticing.”

Mike didn’t say anything for a moment, only kept running the ice over Will’s neck. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I ask you something?” Will questioned, eyes still averted towards the ceiling instead of towards the other man. 

“Of course. I’m at your complete disposal.”

Will winced at that, at the reminder that while Mike noticed and took step to alleviate Will’s anxieties, he only did it because he was _forced_ to. 

“Um, it’s nothing. Never mind,” Will said, quickly redacting the question. 

Mike bumped his stubbled cheek against Will again and breathed out through his nose. 

“Trust, remember?”

Will swallowed and slowly nodded. He took a shaky breath and squirmed when he felt the water from the melting ice start to roll down his throat and wet his collar. Mike noticed the movement and discarded the ice back into the overly goofy mug. He used his cold hand to press against the back of Will’s neck, forcing the other man’s vision away from the ceiling, back down, so he was looking straight ahead, at the computer screen. Will steadied himself, feeling foolish before he even asked. 

“I… am I doing alright? As um… someone you work for? Are you happy here?”

“I’m fine. You’re… you’re doing fine.”

That wasn’t much comfort. Will didn’t want to be ‘fine’. He didn’t want Mike to be ‘fine’. Will wanted Mike to be _happy_. He tried again. 

“Is there anything I can do? I noticed you don’t like to ask for things at the store. You don’t even use the white board much so um… is there something else I can do? I could set you up with an Amazon account and a secured credit card so you could get the things you need without having to ask, if that would make you more comfortable. Would you like that?” Will asked as he cast a glance to the side to see Mike’s reaction. 

_I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I want to **help** you._

Mike didn’t speak immediately and Will twisted a little to look at him more clearly. Was he okay? Was that not something Will was supposed to ask him, ask a Domestic?

“You don’t have to do that,” Mike finally said, voice soft. 

It was Will’s turn to press his cheek against the other man’s. Mike twitched at the contact but didn’t pull away. 

“You didn’t answer the question,” Will pointed out gently. “Trust, remember?”

The tall man hesitated but finally nodded. Will doubted that he would have even noticed the geausture if their face’s weren’t actually touching.

“You’re… you’re....” Mike trailed off, voice unsteady. 

Will twisted to look at him. It was the closest their faces had ever been to each other and Will’s eyes darted down to Mike’s lips. They were full and parted with some unspoken thought and Will had the unwelcome urge to kiss them. He didn’t (thank god). Will forced his eyes away from Mike’s lips to look at the rest of him. 

Mike didn’t move or pull away, but his dark brown eyes weren’t focused on Will. Rather, they looked like Mike wasn’t really looking at anything at all. His face was a little flushed and each breath was still shaky, uneven. Instinctively, Will reached up and brushed the back of his hand against Mike’s cheek. It felt warm. 

“Are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever?”

Mike finally focused and looked at Will. He opened his mouth but no words came out. 

“Shit, you are sick, aren’t you? Hang on, I’ll get the Tylenol and-”

Will was cut off by Mike gripping the collar of his shirt and pressing him firmly into his chair. Will choked down a yelp and blinked up at the taller man, alarmed by the sudden pressure on his shoulders. Mike’s eyes were squeezed shut, face flushed with fever, and mouth parted in what looked like pain. Will surveyed him in silence, certain that he was right and that Mike was hurting or ailing in some way, but afraid to speak. After a time, Mike opened his eyes and let out a tremulous breath. 

“D… do you require my services?” Mike finally asked, voice steadier than his breathing had been.

_What? No. Why would you even ask that? That’s so out of the blue it’s… it’s…_

_Oh._

_**Oh.** _

That flush wasn’t fever, was it? The shaking in Mike’s hands wasn’t from pain or nausea. Mike was _aroused_. He wanted Will to say ‘yes’ so he wouldn’t have to be the one to try and initiate physicality. He’d been uncomfortable enough asking for a trip _to the store_ , there was no way he’d ask for… for what he wanted right now. 

Will swallowed the lump in his throat and felt himself go stiff. His pulse spiked again and he stared for longer than he should have, mouth agape, unsure what to say to the sudden question, to the sudden situation presented to him. Will ground his teeth together, listened to the sound it made over the rushing blood in his ears, and bit the inside of his lip. 

“Yeah.” 

Almost instantaneously, Mike relaxed his expression and pulled back on the chair rather forcefully. The force of it dragged Will back and reminded the younger man that while he was slim, Mike was still strong. Will felt like there was a very real possibility his heart might stop when Mike stepped into the space he’d created between Will and the desk and looked down at him. His already inky eyes looked somehow ever darker with the expression he wore and Will gripped the arm rests. He sat frozen as Mike descended upon him, not knowing what to do or what was expected of him as the tall man started tugging at Will’s shirt with no further preamble. Even though his hands were shaking, Mike’s fingers made quick work of Will’s buttons and he deftly pulled it free from where the programmer had it tucked into his belted slacks. 

Will was surprised. With the predatory look Mike was giving him, Will had expected his housemate to rip the shirt clean off and send the buttons flying, but he’d been careful to not muss a single thing as he worked. When the freckled man looked at him again, Will forgot how to breathe. 

“Raise your hands,” Mike commanded and Will was compiled without a second thought. 

Mike worked the shirt off of Will, leaving him cold and exposed in his racerback undershirt. Will almost started shaking from (his nerves) the cold but repressed it as the taller man looked him over, face flushed but unreadable. Will held back a whine and accompanying spasm when Mike started working on the seated man’s belt. 

‘Hang on, wait. I don’t even know what we’re doing yet,’ Will wanted to say. ‘Just give me a second,’ but any protest he might have had died before it was even born. After all, he was the one who’d told Mike that he wanted this, that he _needed_ Mike’s ‘services’. Will forced himself to relax as Mike snaked the belt free from it’s loops and set it on the desk behind him. When the freckled man turned back from setting the belt aside, Will smiled up nervously. 

“Are you alright?” Mike rumbled, pausing at the look Will had given him. 

“Yep. I’m good,” Will lied as one of his legs started bouncing nervously. 

Mike glanced at that wiggling leg and lay a hand on it, gave it a firm squeeze. His long fingers pressed into the meat of Will’s thigh and settled him. Mike’s hand was still cold from where he’d held the ice and Will shrunk down into his chair a little, suddenly feeling very, very small. 

“Are you scared?” Mike asked as he watched Will draw back. 

“No,” the younger man insisted despite the growing trepidation he felt. “I’m great.”

Mike looked down at Will and squeezed his thigh tightly, sending shocks from Will’s toes to his spine. If the hand had been on Will’s throat, it might have choked him. Mike knew he was lying.

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m going to take really good care of you,” Mike whispered, voice soft, less gruff now. “Take your shirt off.”

Will hesitated for a moment and Mike released Will’s leg to lace his fingers in the seated man’s hair. Will leaned into the touch and let out a startled sound when the fingers tightened their hold and coaxed his head back rather than carding through it. Will looked up at where his gaze had been directed, looked at Mike, and waited for the other man to speak. Mike held Will perfectly still for a moment before he licked his lips and sighed. 

“I’m going to take care of you, but you have to follow the rules. You told me,” Mike whispered, leaning closer, until his lips brushed the shell of Will’s ear. “That you wanted me to be in control. I can do that, but that means when we start a scene, you have to do what I say. If it’s ever too much, if you ever need me to stop, you have to say your safe word. Understand?”

Will would have nodded if he’d been in a position to move his head, but since Mike’s hands held him in place, Will was forced to speak. 

“Okay. I understand.”

“Good boy,” Mike crooned as he released Will’s hair to stroke through it. “Now take off your shirt.”

This time, Will obeyed. He wriggled himself free of the undershirt while Mike took a step back to lean against the desk and watch the programmer. When Will reached for his tie, Mike stopped him with a ‘tsk’. 

“Leave it.”

Will let his hands drop to his sides and sat as still as he could manage, but it was difficult sitting half nude while the other man leaned against the desk and just examined him without saying a word. Mike looked Will over for what felt like a long time but could have been mere seconds before he took a step forward and to plant himself between Will’s parted knees. 

In this position, Will could feel his thighs pressed against Mike’s, and he fought the desire to squeeze Mike between his legs. That was too forward, too demanding for the passive role he’d assigned himself in all of this. Will would never touch Mike without permission. He’d never make Mike feel like her _had_ to say yes for fear of being hurt or punished (or abandoned). Will had made that promise to himself and intended to keep it. It didn’t matter how badly his cock twitched at the thought of Mike trapped between his legs, or how much he desired to close the space between them and pull Mike down for a kiss, if only to break the uncomfortable silence between them and the line of Mike’s unwavering gaze on his body. He absolutely _would not_ put Mike in a position where he may feel forced into any physical interactions. 

Will lowered his eyes, desperate to look anywhere else other than Mike’s face, and let his gaze land on what was directly in front of him; Mike’s waist. 

“Is it okay… can I touch you?” Will asked, barely above a whisper. 

“Yes,” Mike agreed softly, consenting to the request. 

Will almost raised his hands but halted the movement. 

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Mike said again, voice airy. 

_Thank you. Thank you for letting me. Thank you._

Will reached up and settled his hands on the narrow expanse of Mike’s waist to thumb at the belt. The lanky man swayed into the touch but didn’t speak. Will tugged at the leather and pulled it free from the loops, watching Mike’s face for any kind of reaction. Before he could drop it, the taller man pulled it from Will’s hands and held it in his own. Will waited, expecting Mike to do something but when he didn’t, the shorter man went back to resting his hands on Mike’s boney hips. 

Not as boney as Will remembered them looking the night of the suicide attempt. Mike had filled out a little, his slacks hung better on him, and his gaunt face no longer looked like something belonging to a prisoner. Will ran his fingers across the cotton of the other man’s shirt and his breath hitched when Mike pressed against him, silently letting him know this was okay. Will tugged at the shirt, tried to pull it free and expose the milky, freckled expanse of skin beneath. 

Will ran a hand across Mike tentatively, as soft as he could. This felt like a gift, to be allowed to touch. Mike hadn’t let him before, hand pulled away or halted Will when he tried. Will pushed the shirt up a few inches and just admired what he saw. 

The skin was soft, lightly haired, and taunt. Will wanted to lick that stomach, to draw it into his mouth and taste Mike, but more than that, he wanted what was lower. Would Mike let him this time? Will eased his hands across the hem of Mike’s slacks to rest on the button and looked up in question only to be greeted by Mike’s eyes closed, his chin upturned. Will felt emboldened in that moment and tugged at the button, trying to free it and jerked when Mike’s hands grabbed him by the wrists. Will looked back up, suddenly deflating. Oh, that must not have been the right move. He was stopping Will _again_. Will tried to pull his hands away and show that he would respect this boundary but Mike held them firm. 

“Let me have them.”

“What?”

“Your hands.”

Will relaxed and offered his wrists up, confused and apologetic for his apparent misread of the situation, and was suddenly very grateful he was sitting. His knees felt incredibly weak as Mike used the belt still in his hands to loop through the buckle and around Will’s offered wrists, pulling it into a large slipknot. Mike tugged on the belt and watched the coder’s face as he looped the belt around itself over and over, effectively binding Will’s hands. Mike looked down at him and swayed again, appearing a little unsteady himself. 

“Is that comfortable?”

Will wasn’t sure. Was he allowed to test the binding? Was he allowed to wiggle and squirm, try and pull his hands free from it or would that upset the freckled man? The belt didn’t hurt; Mike had been careful to tuck the belt beneath the buckle so the metal didn’t dig into Will’s skin, but it certainly wasn’t loose. Hadn’t Mike said Will was allowed to touch him? How was he supposed to participate bound the way he was? He couldn’t work the buttons of the clothes, couldn’t run his hands over the other man’s skin. Had he done something wrong?

“Yeah.”

“Good. Stand up,” Mike said as he pulled on the belt and balanced the programmer by the elbow to help him keep his footing. 

Will was grateful for the help. He was off balance in more ways than one, and having Mike’s hands to guide him helped his lightheadedness tremendously. When he found his footing, Will couldn’t decide where to look. It didn’t matter; Mike cupped his face and shifted their positions so that the programmer had his back to the desk and his thighs pressed against it, just below the ass. Mike’s hands were finally warm again and Will leaned into the touch, desperate for comfort, for contact. Mike ran his knuckles across the coder’s jaw and pressed just hard enough that Will tilted his head to expose his throat again. 

“Tell me what you need,” the curly haired man urged. 

_What **I** need? What do **you** need? What can I do right now that will bring you satisfaction, relief? **What am I supposed to do right now?**_

Will swallowed. He wanted to follow the rules, scant as they were and still under negotiation, but was afraid to talk. He wanted to lean into Mike, press against him and melt into the taller man. Will wanted to touch him but his hands were bound, too tight and awkward to card through Mike’s hair or caress his chest through the button down shirt. Will pressed his face into Mike’s hand and resisted the urge to kiss his palm. 

“Touch me,” he whispered. Afraid it sounded too much like an order, he added “please,” and his lips brushed Mike’s skin when he spoke. 

“As you wish.”

Will jerked, surprised (relieved) when Mike dropped his hand and dipped his head to mouth as Will’s throat and shoulder. It wasn’t a kiss, more of just a touch, a taste, and Will rolled his head back to bite his lip and an unwelcome, choked sound escaped before he could silence it. For as unreceptive as Mike was to physical touch when it was directed at _him_ , he seemed to respond to sound with vigor. When Will made any at all, even muffled or suppressed, Mike would make one in return. It was unfortunate, really, because Will had such ingrained embarrassment for any sound he made that the programmer did everything in his power to hold even the smallest noise back while the lanky Domestic did everything he could to draw them out. 

He started licking, grazing teeth against skin, and gripped Will roughly around the waist. He dug his nails into Will hard enough to bite, but not enough to draw blood. Will let Mike have whatever he wanted (other than those shameful, whorish sounds) without protest. He melted into the touches, let himself mold and bend to them in any way Mike might want. 

The dark haired man pressed Will’s hips back roughly and dropped to his knees, and Will was infinitely grateful the desk was behind him, taking his weight. His legs felt truly and utterly useless in that moment. 

When Mike reached up and started pulling at his slacks, Will almost asked him to stop. This wasn’t what he expected. Will had been ready, willing to let Mike take what he wanted after a lifetime of giving. He hadn’t expected Mike to offer such a one sided, submissive act. That wasn’t what they had discussed (though blow jobs _specifically_ had never come up) at the kitchen island that morning, nor the night in the office. There was a _lot_ they hadn’t talked about yet, and that needed remedied. 

Will let his bound wrists hover over the mass of Mike’s dark curls and waited, looking for any indication that it was alright. Mike grazed his teeth across Will’s hip and popped the button open. Will touched a few of the curls before withdrawing his hands to press the leather of the belt to his mouth. Will bit down on it, hard, to muffle any of the humiliating, helpless noises his body might try to make. His heart jumped to his throat to strangle him when Mike eased the slacks down Will’s thighs and pooled them around his ankles. Mike let them fall, forgotten, and nuzzled against Will through his briefs, causing the man to involuntarily jerk into the touch. 

“I’m sorry,” Will whispered, ashamed that he’d moved, that he’d increased the touch without permission. 

Mike made a sound, perhaps a growl, and pulled Will forward by the hips so he could bite at the meat of Will’s upper thigh hard enough to bruise. Will whimpered, more in surprise than pain (though there was a fair amount of that as well) and jerked again. He pressed his wickedly hard cock into Mike’s waiting palm and let out another hushed sound, and Mike responded to the press by squeezing him through his briefs. 

“Tell me what you need,” Mike demanded, still mouthing at the already yellowing skin of Will’s leg where he’d bitten the other man. “Tell me.”

_I can’t. I **can’t** , it’s too vulgar._

Mike bit him again, a quick nip; less painful than the first. His teeth dug into the bone of Will’s hip and the programmer pressed the leather of the belt against his mouth to keep from yelping. 

“ _Tell me._ ”

“I… I need…” Will panted as his hips started rocking into the hand on his dick. “I need you to… to…” he pressed hard against Mike’s palm, spread his thighs and prayed it was enough, that he wouldn’t actually have to say the words. “Please,” he whined, hands shaking against his lips. 

_Please don’t make me say it. Don’t make me put it to words, I **can’t**. I can’t **order** you to do that. Please, please, please-_

“-Please,” he choked out, barely holding back a dry sob of desire (and shame). 

Mike looked up at him and Will had to squeeze his eyes closed, unable to bear the weight of the look. When he felt the older man press his mouth against his thigh again, he expected teeth and another bite to follow; discipline for not obeying what Mike told him to do. Instead, the mouth was soft. It felt almost like Mike was kissing the bruise but Will couldn’t force open his eyes to check. He shuddered and squeezed his fingers together, searching for any alternate stimulation (pleasurable or otherwise) to the unmoving hand on his cock and the warm mouth on his thigh. 

Blessedly, Mike didn’t push the issue. What he did was kiss Will’s thigh again before wrapping his hands around both. Once he had a firm grip, he _lifted_ Will, only a few inches, just enough to let Will actually sit on the desk. Will felt the warm touch on Mike’s legs press into him, spread his thighs wide, and Mike hoised Will’s knees over his freckled shoulders as he knelt between them. 

Will couldn't help the sound he made when Mike pulled Will’s dick free from his briefs and kissed the head of him, where he was hard and wet with precum. The slim man licked and worried at him until Will was rocking, thrusting into open air, desperate for friction more substantial than just Mike’s tongue upon him. Will wanted to be _inside_ Mike’s mouth; he wanted that gentle pressure, the slick warmth that was promised with every kiss and breath. Will didn’t even realize he’d been talking, had no idea he’d even spoken until he heard Mike chuckle and whisper ‘as you wish’ before he finally, _finally_ took Will into his mouth. 

It was bliss, a slice of heaven. In the four miserable months Will had been in a relationship (such as it was) in college, the sexual aspect had always been… strained. Very little thought or care went into Will’s comfort or pleasure, and as a result, he’d only been offered oral sex a handful of times. What he had been given had been nothing, _nothing_ like this. There was nothing sloppy or rushed about this. This wasn’t just some quick, off the cuff way to get Will relaxed enough, hard enough to consent to sex. What Mike did was expert, slow, and mind numbingly good. Will again felt the urge to squeeze his thighs, to trap Mike between them and hold him there. 

Will dropped his hands from his mouth and let his fingers hover just above those soft, wild curls. 

“Can I touch you?” he asked again, not sure whether the previously given consent extended to this. 

Mike hummed in approval and the vibrations he made sent shocks through Will’s cock, made his toes curl. 

“Thank you,” Will whispered before dropping his hands to touch Mike’s head. 

He was still hesitant, still unsure if Mike was actually okay with this or if he was just saying ‘yes’ because he felt obligated to. The doubts were snuffed out quickly. The freckled man actual _moaned_ the second Will’s hands were in his hair. He shifted, hiked Will’s legs higher up around his shoulders and increased the ferocity at which he sucked and worked the coder. His mouth was so warm and wet, cheeks caved to offer pressure while his hand worked the base of Will. 

He wanted to move, wanted to thrust into that welcoming heat but refused. Fuck, Will wasn’t even sure that Mike would be okay with Will touching his hair; he had absolutely no confidence that the other man would be okay with being face fucked no matter how eagerly he appeared to be encouraging it. Will squirmed and bit down hard on the leather belt and tried his hardest to be still. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly and alternated his concentration between being still and how amazing it all felt.

Will panted, made ghastly, breathy sounds, and pet Mike’s hair as best he could with his hands tied as they were. He needed something else to focus on, something tangible and the silky strands were enough to keep him from wriggling and begging for more than the other man was already giving him. Will ran his fingers through it, snagged a few strands, and gasped when Mike pulled away to look up at him. 

Mike’s lips were swollen and wet, his expression raw and wanting. Will quivered and closed his eyes again, embarrassed to see such an open expression on Mike’s usually placid face. 

“Look at me.”

Will forced his eyes open and stared at the ceiling for a moment before glancing back down. 

“Tell me what you need.”

“I- I need,” Will stammered, desperately wanting to do what Mike had told him to; to speak. The arousal helped override his shame and Will tried to form the words. “I need…”

_To cum. To kiss. To be held. To touch you. I need-_

“-You to fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, for those of you who’ve stuck around and waited, I’m sorry for the extremely late update. A few of you checked in with me over my hiatus and know why this took me so long to write. For those of you who don’t know but would like an explanation, there was a death, a suicide in my family and I have just been... unable to cope. 
> 
> My cousin Christopher took his own life and I haven’t been able to think about much else especially, because I wasn’t able to go to the viewing due to COVID and we have yet to have a memorial. Christopher was only six months younger than me and we grew up together. We played DnD together online every week (because we lived in separate states) until last year when he withdrew and deleted all his social media. I never pushed the issue because I figured he needed some space, and he was avoiding my calls/texts, but now I wish I had tried harder. So that’s why I haven’t been updating. I’m having a difficult time coping with the loss and with the guilt of not trying harder to make him talk to me.
> 
> The grief is less overwhelming now and I’m trying to bury myself in writing again. If the content gets dark, it’s just me trying to work through my own pain. I’m sorry. Thank you for sticking around and thank you for those of you who reached out on Tumblr and in the comments. I swear, I’m still alive and intend to finish this story. Hopefully I’ll be back on some semblance of a writing schedule soon but I have two short stories a week to edit for my classmates from here until the end of the semester, so I’m having trouble getting my own written and edited on top of that. Thank you for the patience. 
> 
> Be well, and take care of yourselves. 
> 
> If you ever need to talk I am here. Leave me a comment or hit me up on Tumblr (the link is in my bio). I will always listen.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Mike take things to a new level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Extremely graphic sexual content. Light bondage, spanking, and choking.

Will couldn’t believe he said that, that he had said something so forward and lewd. For as much as he encouraged Mike to speak his mind, Will had always had issues when it came to saying anything too personal, too controversial, or rude. What if he offended someone? What if they thought poorly of him? It was a character flaw he’d had most of his life and one that he didn’t see himself ever overcoming. 

_‘Pushover’,_ that’s what Jonathan had said. _‘You’re not a doormat, Will. Don’t let people walk all over you. You’re allowed to say what you’re thinking, even if it might upset someone.’_

No, he really wasn’t. Will had tried for a while, had at least _attempted_ to follow Jonathan’s advice to voice his opinions, his desires, and his worries. All it did was make people look at him like he was a freak. All it had done was make people say he was a wet blanket or a basket case (or worse). It was like there was something inherently _wrong_ with who Will was as a person, something that other people could see every time he opened his mouth. So Will learned how to shut up, laugh, and smile through uncomfortable interactions. He kept his thoughts to himself and every one of his uncouth desires locked away so no one needed to be subjected to hearing them. It was so much easier to take his pills and be quiet than it was to follow his brother’s advice.

‘Cocksucker’ and ‘suck my dick’ had _always_ been used as insults, so Will kept that desire to himself too. There was something wrong with that, wasn’t there? To _want_ to do that? Even his partner in college had only ever treated it as a means to an end rather than something he enjoyed. Will had wanted to offer, but the way people treated it like a chore told him all he needed to know about how an offer like that would be received, how _he’d_ be perceived if he brought it up. 

Will flushed heavily at the memories of the annoyance he’d receive when his partner would go down on him and god, what did Mike think about Will? What did he think about Will that time he had stood over the shorter man, fingers moving in and out of Will’s mouth while the programmer stared up at him and moaned?

_Bet you’d look even better with my cock in your mouth._

And Will had _whimpered_ at that, practically _begged_ Mike to do it. Yeah, Will knew he was a freak; he’d known he was for ages and his peers never let him forget it. What must Mike have been thinking when he had Will in his mouth, doing the thing Will had whined and nearly begged for? Did he wonder _why_ Will was so desperate to perform an act so debasing? Did he think Will was a freak too? Will flushed harder at the thought of how Mike had performed the horrible, degrading task for him, how he might have felt _obligated_ to. Will felt his nose prickle as. 

He should apologize. Even though Will hadn’t forced Mike’s head down and used him like he’d seen people do in porn, it was something so horrendous and demeaning that it felt like a crime (a sin) for Mike to have done that for him. But even that, even apologizing was too embarrassing to consider. 

Will felt tears prick at the edge of his eyes with how embarrassed and ashamed of himself he suddenly felt and he immediately went to withdraw his hands from the taller man’s dark curls to cover his face, his mouth, and take back what he’d just said. Mike halted the movement, clutched at the hanging strap of the belt around Will’s wrists to keep the hands pressed against his scalp. 

“Whatever you need,” the taller man murmured as he pressed his stubbled jaw against Will’s bruised thigh. 

The touch only lasted a second before Mike released him and detached himself from where Will had boxed the lanky man between his trembling legs. Mike stood, rose to his full height, and when he towered over the mostly nude, seated man, he was a little intimidating. Will wanted to hide, wanted to run and never show his face again, but Mike ran his hands across the younger man’s legs to push his briefs fully off and left him _laid bare_ , shaking, and painfully aroused. Mike fell to his knees again and slipped his hands down Will’s calves before he started tugging at the programmer’s socks. For one brief, horrifying moment, all Will could think about was how badly they must stink from being worn all day and he tried to jerk his foot away self consciously. If Mike noticed, he didn’t give any indication. He held Will firm, pulled the sock off, and gripped Will’s ankles roughly before juxtaposing the hold with a gentle bite on each. 

When he stood again, Mike took a step forward and leaned over until the fabric of his shirt brushed against Will’s chest. Will felt his breath stall and half expected the taller man to close the distance between them (wanted him to), or even shove him away in disgust. Mike leaned past Will to push aside the keyboard and notebooks, the pens and Holiday World mug of melting ice. When he was done, he leaned back and looked Will over again, evaluating him. 

“Turn around, lean forward, and get comfortable. Stay there, okay? I have to get some things. Don’t move once you’re settled, understand?”

Will nodded and reluctantly did what he was told. He made himself as comfortable as was possible, used his elbows to prop himself up, and rested one of his cheeks against his curled, bound hands. He watched Mike leave, feeling so far beyond exposed that he felt almost nothing at all. Maybe he was too humiliated to care. Maybe he was too aroused. 

Will looked around the empty room that was his home office and felt immensely grateful he had thick curtains installed before he moved in; at least his neighbors wouldn’t be getting a show. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. What the fuck was he thinking? This had to be the most embarrassing thing he had ever done. How was he ever supposed to look at Mike again after this? How was he supposed to look at _anyone_? He’d never be able to make eye contact after this, after being tied up and bent over his own desk, so hard it _hurt_ and practically salivating at the thought of getting fucked by the tall, unreadable man he shared a home with. What kind of cretin was aroused by this? Maybe he should just stand up, try to wriggle free, and run. He could lock himself in his room and never come out and pretend none of this had happened. He pulled on the restraints to test them and they bit his skin. He hissed, dick throbbing at the mild, controlled pain it had caused. No. He wasn’t going to run or hide. 

It might have been a minute, it could have been an hour, but eventually Will heard Mike’s footsteps returning and he glanced up in time to watch the taller man stride through the door and past the desk. Will twisted to look over his shoulder, to watch what Mike was doing but a large, strong hand pressed firmly against the back of his head. The hand forced Will’s face forward and Mike tsked again. 

“I’m pretty sure I told you not to move.”

“Sorry,” Will whispered, voice shaky. 

“It’s alright, I’ll forgive you this time. You’re still learning, aren’t you? But break the rules again and I’ll have to punish you.”

Will shivered, half tempted to move again just to see what would happen if he did. He refrained for the time being and listened to the shuffling of clothes behind him instead. He flinched when a neatly folded jacket was placed near his head, followed by a similarly folded shirt. Mike was undressed now, at least from the waist up. Will wanted to turn and look at him, to see if that creamy skin was just as flawless as the expanse of stomach Will had already seen, but didn’t move; the desire to obey was stronger than the desire to peek. Behind him, Mike moved again and rested a hand on the small of Will’s back. 

It stayed there for a time, rubbing circles into Will’s skin. His hands were calloused but gentle and Will shivered at the contrasting sensations. He must have been visibly tense despite his efforts to conceal it, because Mike focused on steady, gentle touches until Will actually felt his spin release, his neck relax, and his head fall forward until his brow touched his hands. Once Will gave in to the caresses, Mike moved his hand from Will’s back to the swell of his ass and squeezed gently. Behind him, Will heard the unmistakable ‘click’ of a bottle being opened and held his breath. 

Mike’s hand trailed lower, below Will’s buttocks to the top of his thigh and Will wriggled without knowing he’d done it. He realized soon enough when the hand that had been trailing lightly calloused tips down him raised and delivered a sharp, loud smack across his ass. Will yelped, stunned as little shocks radiated across his backside and the hand struck him again. The programmer leaned forward, pressed his brow hard against his knuckles, still shocked when Mike started massaging the place he’d just hit. 

“Bad boy. No moving.”

“Sorry,” Will gasped as he struggled to compose himself. 

His skin felt hot, both from where he’d been swatted, and from the embarrassment of being spanked like a disobedient child. Mike leaned forward to kiss the already raising skin and the mark he’d left. Will almost squirmed again but resisted the urge. 

“I’m going to get you ready now, okay?” Mike asked. When Will nodded as a way of response, Mike sighed. “Words please. You have to communicate with me. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Will rasped as he clenched and unclenched his fingers. 

The shame he felt for being in this position, for _asking_ to be in this position was secondary now, nothing more than a murmur in the back of his mind. The desire was so much louder, more demanding and Will supposed that if he was going to get fucked over his desk he could do worse than Mike. At least he liked and trusted the other man. It was a welcome change. The apprehension of being in such a precarious and embarrassing position was better than the apprehension born from selfconciousness and doubt he’d felt whenever his college partner tried to initiate sex. 

“Good. You’re so good for me, aren’t you?” Mike asked, still gently petting the place he’d just hit. 

Will didn’t know he’d nodded until he felt Mike touch his hair and still the movement. Will felt Mike tap his foot against his ankle to encourage him to spread his legs a little wider, and Will did. As he did, Will felt something cool and slick press against him as Mike went back to stroking the area at the base of his spine. Will twitched when he felt the slicked thing push against him and eventually breach the ring of muscle around his entrance. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t a finger, but something less yielding, maybe made of plastic or silicon that had made its way inside his body. It was bigger than a finger at first, more rounded too, but it tapered off, narrowed, and curved. Will struggled to adapt to the stretch, the burn as Mike pressed whatever it was he was holding slowly in until it stopped. 

Other than the initial stretch, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Mike held it still, unmoving until Will exhaled and relaxed his clenched fists. After a moment, Mike tugged on the thing, causing it to shift and move. Will convulsed around the object and ground his teeth. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it was certainly different than what he’d expected. The only experience Will had with anything like this had been fingers, and on the rare occasion he gave into the pressure to have sex in college, cock. Will was too embarrassed to go into an ‘adult shop’ or even order a toy online for fear that someday someone may need to pull his credit card receipts. So this… this was new. 

The swell and curve of the thing, the way Mike moved it slowly, experimentally in Will’s body was so different from what he was used to. Mike took his time, moved with care and skill until Will was relaxed and panting onto his desk. Once he was actually limp and pliant, when the tension left his body and Will was rocking back into the movements instead of struggling to be still and just accept it, Mike leaned forward. He moved his hand from Will’s back to his hair and pushed it away from the other man’s face. For a second, Will thought Mike might kiss him, or at least his cheek. Instead, he heard a little ‘click’ from somewhere behind him. With that click came something new entirely and Will bucked so hard he would have reared clean off the table if Mike hadn’t been holding him down. 

Still, even held as he was, Will shouted and jerked; arched his back as high as he could and squirmed to get away (to push back into) the sudden building throb in his body. For his efforts, Will was rewarded with another heavy slap on his ass. It stung and Will whined as another strike landed. He was back to panting, clenching and unclenching his fists while Mike hit him and fucked him with the vibrating toy buried in his body. Will’s cock was throbbing, leaking, and there was nothing he could do about it other than try not to hurt himself on the desk as he sobbed dryly into his fists. 

Mike stopped smacking him and rested his hand on the back of Will’s neck to hold him still. Will pressed his forehead against his thumbs and whimpered, half prepared for a smack to the face. He let himself go limp, prepared for it. Mike relaxed his hold on Will’s neck and raised to drag nails across the base of his skull. Will didn’t mean to, but he turned his head to the side to watch the taller man. Mike was already looking down at him and when Will met his dark eyes, he immediately looked away again. That look was too intense and Will had the uncomfortable feeling he wasn’t supposed to have seen it at all. 

The hand in Will’s hair, instead of tightening it’s hold to punish him for his sudden movement, stroked over it gently while Mike hummed and whispered into Will’s ear. 

“How’s that feel?” 

Will knew he was still writhing. He could feel himself struggling against the feeling, not even caring if Mike hit him again but shit, the damn thing in his body was _vibrating_ and Mike was angling it against his most sensitive spots. Every time Will thought he was going to do something humiliating, beg or god forbid cry, Mike would let up the pressure and withdraw just enough to offer reprieve. Mike kept stroking his hair, his face, and when Will was reduced to just burying his face in his hands, Mike bit Will lightly on the shoulder. 

“I asked you a question.”

Will struggled to clear his head, to focus on what it was Mike was saying. How did it _feel_? How the fuck did Mike think it felt? It was amazing, overwhelming, and bordering on pain from how intense it was. 

Will squirmed again and Mike clicked off the toy. It left Will aching and numb. Another brush of teeth against his shoulder made Will blink and open his eyes. 

“It… it’s good,” he admitted quietly and Mike kissed the spot he’d just bitten. 

“Do you want me to keep going?”

Will nodded, hoping it was enough. Mike stroked his fingers over Will’s brow, soft and comforting. Will felt a sting in his nose and pressed back into the lips on his shoulder. When the thing in this body came to life again, he couldn’t do much more than gasp and claw at his desk. Above him, Mike moved his hand from Will’s hair to press it into the younger man’s hip. When he moved this time, it was faster, less gentle. That wasn’t to say that it hurt or was rough, but it was far less forgiving. This time when Mike relentlessly thrust that terrible, wonderful, vibrating thing over his prostate, Will thought he might actually cum untouched. 

“Please,” Will said, voice pathetic and quaky. 

“Please what?” Mike asked as he squeezed Will’s hip.

“Please just- just-”

_Stop. Keep going. Touch me. Anything._

“-Fuck me already,” he finally spat out, shame buried so far under the ovewhemling desire that it was barely a tickle in the back of his mind. 

“Okay. Give me a second, let me make sure you’re ready-”

“-I’m ready,” Will snarled, desperate. “Just do it.”

“Alright, calm down,” Mike chuckled as he turned off the massager and eased it free. 

Behind him, Mike stood and Will heard the shuffling of clothes. He wanted to scream with how long it took Mike to undo his pants and step out of them. When he heard the crackling of a condom wrapper, something about the sound roused him from his desire induced stupor. Will struggled to quiet his arousal enough to think, and twisted to look over his shoulder. 

“Wait, wait,” he rasped and kicked back, his heel colliding with Mike’s shin. 

A hard smack on his already red and swollen buttocks made him hiss and he kicked back again, harder this time. 

“ _Wait_.”

Mike paused his movements. 

“Do you have something you need to say? A specific word?”

“No no, not that. The condom, is it latex?” Will asked, back to laying heavily against the desk as still as he could manage in case Mike was looking for another reason to strike him. 

“I... “

A pause, more crinkling plastic as the freckled man apparently examined the object in question. 

“I think so. It’s a durex.”

Will turned to look over his shoulder, not caring if he got another swat. Mike wasn’t looking at him though; he had the condom in its wrapper and his brow was furrowed in concentration as he tried to read the small print. He was pretty, _really pretty_ and Will felt a blush creeping up despite himself. He’d seen Mike in various states of undress before, but none of them had been in particularly good circumstances: in the tub during his suicide attempt, chained to the bed as he tried to find a way to keep Will from hurting him. Even when they had been in bed together that night, Mike had kept his clothes on and it had been too dark to really see anything. Even when Mike was trying on the suits Will had ordered for him, even though he’d been in his under clothes, long legs exposed as he pulled on pair after pair of slacks, it hadn’t been sexual. Besides, Will had kept his eyes averted to offer privacy. This was the first time he’d gotten a look at Mike’s body in a sexual way and it was… well fuck, Will could understand why people would be willing to drop thousands dollars to spend a weekend with him. 

It wasn’t just his legs that were long; his torso stretched on for days. He had a narrow waist and long, lightly muscled arms to match his big hands. The freckles on his face made their way from his broad shoulders down past his boney chest. Will blushed harder, embarrassed for having looked so long, turned his head away, and cleared his throat. 

“Won’t you have a reaction?” he asked, voice a little unsteady. 

“It would be localized. It’s not dangerous.”

_Isn’t it uncomfortable though? I wouldn’t want hives… there._

“You um…” Will struggled to find the words. “You don’t have to… you know,” he offered. “Just, could you um, could you pull out when…?”

Will shuddered when Mike set the condom on the desk and leaned over to push the programmers hair aside and kiss the back of his neck, almost… affectionately. 

“It doesn’t bother me to wear one.”

_Liar. It’s got to hurt._

Will shook his head and pressed his knuckles into his eyes. 

“I don’t want you to. Just make sure you’re careful,” he insisted quietly. 

“Whatever you want.”

Mike pulled away from him and Will ached at the loss of warmth, the press of his skin. He waited, legs spread but weak as the desk supported most of his weight. He felt one of Mike’s hands grip his hip to line himself up to where Will waited. The freckled man didn’t press in or move immediately, and Will heard the click of the lube bottle again. He tried to be patient, tried to be good, but he found himself leaning back into the touch anyway. When he did, he actually got to hear Mike make a noise in response. 

“So eager. Relax, I want this to be good for you,” Mike whispered as he readjusted himself. 

The initial press in was faster than Will had anticipated considering how slowly and thoroughly Mike had worked the toy in him. Considering the accompanying sound, almost a strangled groan, Will wasn’t even sure Mike had meant to move that quickly at all. It hurt a bit, but Will kept himself from reacting by pressing his knuckles harder into his eyes. After the initial thrust, Mike held his hips perfectly still to give Will a moment to adjust to the burning fullness in his body. While his hips didn’t move, his hands did. They traced over the expanse of Will’s back, his hips and neck before finally resting one on Will’s shoulder for leverage. 

_‘So eager,’_ that’s what Mike had said. Strange, considering how his previous lover used to complain that Will would _‘lay there like a dead fish. Can’t you at least pretend to like it?’_

_‘I’m sorry,’_ he’d whisper back, embarrassed. _‘I’m just nervous.’ ‘You’re always nervous.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Stop apologizing. Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you?’ ‘I’m sorry, I’m just uncomfortable.’ ‘You sound crazy, you know that right? We’ve been together for months.’ ‘I know, I’m sorry. I can’t help it’ ‘For fuck’s sake, don’t you trust me?’_

No, not even a little. Will knew what was going on, that he was being cheated on, gaslighted, and neglected. He might have called his partner out on it if he wasn’t afraid of being told he was over reacting and acting ‘crazy’ again. So Will ignored it, tolerated it, dealt with it, and repressed it. He took his pills and spread his legs and pretended he didn’t mind. 

Will closed his eyes, tried to focus on what was happening _now_ , not on the past. Mike didn’t gaslight him. Mike didn’t tell him to keep quiet or not bring up things that scared him. He didn’t encourage Will to keep his thoughts to himself, to lie with a cheerful smile and a ‘I’m great! Everything’s fine!’

Mike withdrew and Will shuddered. 

“Are you alright?” the taller man asked, thumbs rubbing over the dip in Will’s hips.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

Mike leaned forward and pressed heavily against Will to push his fine, brown hair aside and press his lips against Will’s ear. Will shifted, tilted his head to the side to listen to what Mike had to say. 

“Don’t lie to me.” He pressed his forehead against Will’s spine and squeezed hard enough to bruise where he held Will’s hips. “Tell me what’s wrong. Does it hurt?”

Will shook his head furiously, grateful for the distraction of Mike’s hands. At least it kept him from releasing the tears that were making their way into the corner of his eyes, unbidden. 

“It’s not that. It’s not anything you’re doing. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. Do you need me to stop?” the older man asked, voice far gentler, less teasing than it had been. 

Will shook his head again. 

“No. I’m alright. I know what to say if I need you to… um…” he trailed off. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

_I don’t want you to stop. I’m sorry I’m ruining this. I ruin everything._

And he did. Everything Will touched withered and died. He’d ruined his last semester of high school when he got hospitalized for the roof stunt. He’d broken up his parents' marriage when Lonnie cracked his fingers trying to teach Will to hold a bat; teach him to be a man. He’d ruined Jonathan’s trust in him when he borrowed his brother’s car and ran it off the road by sliding on ice. He’d ruined his friendship with Dustin their second year of college by getting too drunk and trying to kiss him.

No one ever said they blamed him. He’d been allowed to make up his lost credits over the summer and attend college the following spring. His mom claimed the divorce was long time coming and that the broken fingers were just the final straw. Jonathan said he forgave Will for the car, that it was time for an upgrade anyway, and Dustin had acted like nothing had changed between them after Will sobered up. It didn’t really matter though. He knew the truth. Once he fucked up, once he made those mistakes, things couldn’t be the way they were before. 

He didn’t want to ruin this. He wanted this to be perfect, exactly what Mike needed it to be. Will wiggled again, hoping for another slap on the ass to draw attention away from the questions. 

“Come on. Fuck me already,” he demanded, more confident than he actually felt. 

What he got didn’t disappoint. Mike gripped Will by the back of the neck and bit his ear with a growl. 

“I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to fuck you, right here on your desk. I’m going to fuck you until you cum and then I’m going to keep fucking you. I’m not going to stop until you’re an absolute mess for me, do you understand?”

Will lay frozen at the words, shocked and aroused by the shift in Mike’s tenor and body language. After a second, he nodded. 

“Words please. Use your voice,” the curly haired man said, giving Will’s neck a squeeze. 

“I understand,” he gasped back, painfully hard and unable to move while pinned beneath the other man. “I understand.”

“Good boy,” Mike said, no, fucking _purred_ as he pet Will’s hair. 

Mike moved again and this time it was real, strong thrusts. His big hands gripped both the programmer’s shoulder and hip for leverage. Will felt the slim man pull away until he was almost free before returning to bottom out again. There was no preamble, no part way in and back out, and it was so fucking incredable. Will braced himself, dipped his head and brought his hands above it so every thrust had him bumping against the heels of his palms. The leather belt was cutting now, rubbing him raw from how he strained against it in a confusing mixture of pleasure and pain, and Will didn’t care at all. Mike felt amazing behind him, in him. He was lithe, strong, and sure of himself as he moved. Despite the pace of it all, Mike worked with incredible consideration and forbearance. The only thing that hurt was the belt and Will’s own twinging member. Mike was working Will’s prostate so well that Will was leaking heavily, so much so that it was coming from his eyes too, as tears. 

Will needed something, anything to distract him from his woefully neglected dick, so he kicked back, hitting Mike’s leg with his foot. The taller man eased up, slowed down, and relaxed his hold on the smaller man. 

“Why did you do that? Are you trying to be bad?”

Will shuddered and nodded. Behind him, Mike laughed, a low, rumbling sound, and released Will’s shoulder entirely to wrap his hand around Will’s forgotten tie. He pulled, dragged them both up until Will was arched so far back he was actually standing. Will raised his bound hands to grasp at the knot of the tie to keep it from digging into his throat, but Mike beat him to it. The taller man already had the silk twisted back so only the smooth, even blade of the tie was against Will’s neck. Mike held it taunt, tight enough to cut off a little of the other man’s air but not tight enough to actually hurt him while he repositioned himself. When he started anew, it was a brutal, relentless pace. 

It hurt; it felt amazing. Will’s thighs slammed against the desk so hard he was sure there would be bruises and his cock slapped against his stomach, finally free from where it was trapped against the desk. Will reached for himself but could do little more than brush his fingertips across his head and shaft ineffectively. Mike made a sound behind him and released his hold on Will’s hip to grasp and stroke Will’s aching dick. Will was grateful, _so grateful_ to be touched that he must have said so. 

“You’re welcome,” Mike murmured into his ear and Will nearly choked. “It’s okay, Baby. You’re so sweet, aren’t you? So mild mannered and polite. It’s okay, Sweetness. You can come for me,” he soothed, hold on the tie still tight. 

Will trembled. He wanted to, he did, but he wasn’t there yet. Mike stroked faster, his hand still slick from the lube he’d used on the toy and himself. The tall man lowered his head to bite and suck on Will’s shoulder and drew a sound from Will’s constricted throat. 

“I should have had you turn on your web cam,” Mike hissed between bites. “Should have had you record this. Something for you to have for later. Would you like that?” he asked and drew a mouthful of Will’s flesh into his mouth. He ran his tongue over it, dug his teeth in hard enough to mark and released. “I’d love to watch you touch yourself to a video of me fucking you.”

_Jesus, fuck, what? Who the hell thinks of that? That was… That was just… **obscene**_.

Still, Will glanced down at his computer, at the duel monitors, and at the webcam. Mike wasn’t wrong. This would have been a perfect place to film from if either of them had had the forethought to do so. Will felt a tightening in the base of his spine and Mike sighed. 

“Well, maybe next time,” he whispered before biting Will on the shoulder again. 

Will hissed, light headed, throat and shoulder throbbing in tandem. That terrible, throbbing, tight, near pain in the base of his spine and pit of his stomach was growing. Will felt his toes curl and he made a humiliating, stuttering sound as he released onto his desk and Mike’s hand. The pressure on his neck relented as the hand that had been holding the tie dropped it and moved to Will’s hair, pushing the sweat soaked bangs away from the programmer’s face. Mike held him that way, hand against his forehead, almost cradling him. Will melted into it, let himself be held up and balanced, back against Mike’s chest, head resting on the taller man’s shoulder. Mike kept moving, shallowly fucking into Will as he worked the younger man through his orgasm. 

“Good boy, so fucking good,” Mike breathed into Will’s ear as he held him. His thrusts and strokes stopped momentarily and Will lulled against him, weak, his bound hands raised to his mouth to muffle the sounds coming from it. “So good. You’re okay, Will. I’ve got you. You’re doing great. Tell me what you need. Take your time, it’s okay,” Mike said quickly as Will tried to speak past his hiccupping breaths. “You can tell me when you’re ready.”

Will nodded and leaned heavily against the freckled man. It took a moment, maybe longer, but Will was eventually able to settle the shaking he didn’t think he’d be able to control. Mike raised the hand he’d been using to bring Will to his completion, still coated in spend, and pressed it flat against the younger man’s chest. The embrace was strong; it kept Will steady and calmed him. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, just being held upright while Mike slowly moved inside of him, but eventually he opened his eyes and groaned. 

Mike released his hold on Will’s forehead and went back to stroking his hair. 

“Tell me what you need.”

“I need to look at you, please,” Will whispered, a little higher pitched than he liked. 

“Okay. Okay, turn around and rest a second,” Mike said as his hands slowly fell away from the other man. 

Will did, shakily, and leaned against the desk. He was so light headed and out of it from his receding orgasm that it took him a moment to process everything Mike was doing. The taller man had picked up his shirt and used it to mop up Will’s cum from the desk before he moved the neatly folded jacket to the center of the desk. God, Mike was gorgeous. When Will had looked at the taller man from over his shoulder he had seen him, yes, but not _all of him_ , not as clearly as he could now. Mike was filling out, and the muscles of his stomach bunched as he worked on his task. Will felt his eyes drift, as if drawn by unseen forces to get his first look at Mike’s cock. It _was_ pretty, just like the rest of him; pretty and pink with a slight upward curve to it. Will looked away, embarrassed when he noticed Mike looking at him too. 

“Get on the desk.”

Will started to bend forward again, to brace himself on his elbows, but he was stopped by a long arm wrapping around his waist. 

“No. On your back.”

Will turned, suddenly regretting his request to be able to look at the other man. Now that his orgasm was over and his dick was flagging, he felt so embarrassed by his immodest behavior he could have cried. Will closed his eyes, as if that would help, and almost shouted in surprise when strong hands hoisted him up and placed him on the desk. The shock of being lifted and set down like he was an afterthought diverted his attention enough that he momentarily forgot his abashment. His ass stung from where he’d been hit, but Mike had placed Will down on the shirt so there was padding between him and the hard surface of the desk. 

“Lean back.”

It was hard without his hands to help, but Will did. His muscles quivered with the exertion and Mike helped him lay down against the folded jacket as a makeshift pillow. When he stood back to his full height, Mike positioned himself between Will’s legs and coaxed them open. He used one hand to grip Will under the knee and pressed it forward, so it was almost touching Will’s chest, took himself in hand, and lined up. 

The sight was unreal. Will never liked to look when he had sex; never had the desire to. Now, he watched in fascination as Mike entered him for a second time. Will groaned when Mike used both hands to hitch Will’s legs up, so they hung loosely around Mike’s ribs. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” Mike whispered, voice tight. 

Will did, happily, finally squeezing the taller man between his thighs like he’d wanted to all night. Once he had, Mike started moving. 

_You’re beautiful, do you know that? Jesus, **look** at you. You’re gorgeous and strong and **fuck** oh fuck, your **eyes**_.

Will stared up, mouth parted in a pant and watched Mike, but more specifically, his face. His brow was pinched in concentration and his dark eyes were focused on Will, like he was studying the other man, trying to read his reactions. Even this far in, after all he’d done, he was still more concerned with Will’s enjoyment than his own. Will squeezed Mike hard between his legs to get his attention. At the touch, Mike paused. 

“Yes?”

“What do you need?” Will asked, so quietly he wasn’t sure Mike could even hear him. 

“What?”

“What do _you_ need?” Will asked again, a little louder but still barely more than a whisper. “Tell me.”

“I don’t-”

Will squeezed again, cutting the curly haired man off mid sentence. 

“Tell me.”

Mike lowered his head, then the rest of himself until Will’s bound hands touched his chest. 

“Put your arms around me,” he mumbled, voice small.

Will was so startled by the request he didn’t even move at first. Slowly, he extracted his arms from where they were trapped between their bodies and raised them so Mike could dip his head between them. Will lowered his arms, rested his elbows on Mike’s broad, boney shoulders, and waited. Mike stayed still for a very long time, eyes closed. Then he moved. 

This time was slow, unsteady, and unbearably (beautifully) close. Their chests touched, their cheeks brushed, and Will again had the desire to twist his head to kiss. Will bit his lip and blinked up at the ceiling and saw nothing but a veil of curls. 

_I love you. I think I love you._

_No. Don’t do that. Don’t burden him with that. It’s not fair. You can’t put that on him, it’s not his responsibility to be your emotional crutch. What the fuck is wrong with you? Just enjoy this. Just let him enjoy this. Don’t ruin this too._

Will gazed up, watched those curls move as Mike did. If he could have gotten hard again so soon, he would have. As it was, he lay back, just twitching and jumping, overly sensitive as Mike moved slowly and with purpose. He didn’t know how long it lasted. He let his mind wander, let his fingers trace lightly over Mike’s curls, and sighed. It was a slight change, one he might not have noticed if they hadn’t been pressed so closely together and if Will wasn’t over-stimulated, but Mike’s pace was faltering. Will wrapped his legs tighter to urge Mike on to his own release. 

Mike pulled away and Will’s elbows slipped from their place on the taller man’s shoulders. Because his hands were bound by the belt, they were trapped where they lay, around Mike’s neck and behind his skull. Will watched, actually saw Mike angle himself differently, felt the pace change again. Will watched Mike’s face. He was holding back; he wasn’t going to let himself come until Will gave him some indication that it was alright, was he?

Will used his arms, still linked around Mike’s neck, and pulled himself up to bump his forehead against Mike’s chin. 

“I want you to cum,” he breathed. “Please, I _need_ you too.”

Will leaned back again, let himself dangle from Mike’s neck like a weight as the curly haired man pulled out of him with a throaty groan, leaving a dull, empty, terrible ache in his absence. Mike reached down and Will watched from the space between their bodies as Mike started working. He must have been close because as Will watched, not even ashamed, he saw Mike’s face twist up and hot, thick cum coated both of their stomachs. Mike bowed his head, breath heavy and uneven. Will curled up and pressed his mouth, grazed his teeth gently against one shaking, sweaty, freckled shoulder briefly before withdrawing the touch. 

Mike, with Will’s help, slowly extracted himself from between Will’s arms and legs. Will let him go, exhausted, and too spent to do much on his own. Without speaking, Mike took Will’s wrists and deftly removed the belt, only pausing when he saw how red and raw they were. 

“Does that hurt?”

“A little,” Will admitted, not seeing the point in lying when Mike would know anyway. 

Will jerked back, startled when Mike suddenly bent and scooped him up off the desk. 

He was surprised. Not because he didn’t think Mike could pick him up (he’d already demonstrated that he could) but because of the tenderness of the geasuture. Mike held Will that way for a moment, chest to chest, Will’s toes dangling off the ground. Now that his hands were free, Will could rest his elbows on Mike’s shoulders more comfortably and finally tangle his fingers in Mike’s dark, unruly mane. They stayed that way, nose to nose, breath mingling, dirty, sweaty, coated in come, and reeking of sex. It should have been filthy, mortifying even, but it wasn’t. Mike held Will firm, his long arms wrapped so tightly around the other man’s waist he could have hugged his own elbows. Slowly, the tall man relaxed his grip on him and Will slid to the floor to step away. 

“Come on. I’ll start the shower for you.”

Will followed, not sure how to feel about what had just happened. He watched as Mike turned on the water, tested the temperature, and stepped away. Will hesitated, trying to find his courage. 

“Join me?” he asked quietly, fully expecting the offer to be rejected. 

It wasn’t. 

In some ways, it was more intimate than what they had just done. No words passed between them; Will because he was afraid of what he might say, and Mike for his own reasons. They passed the soap back and forth, scrubbed themselves clean, and toweled dry. Mike found Will’s antiseptic cream, rubbed it on the programmers wrists carefully, and bound them with gauze. Will watched him and did his best not to lean into the touches. When he was done, Mike looked down at Will, still wrapped only in a towel, and tilted his head. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah.”

Mike turned, excused himself, and Will fell flat on his bed. He didn’t bother to dress, he just lay there in silence and looked at the wall he shared with Mike’s room. He turned away, pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, and took an unsteady breath. 

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been one long, hellish week here in the U.S, so I hope if nothing else, this chapter helped distract you, even for a few minutes. This should come as no surprise to anyone, but from here on out Will and Mike will be exploring more of the sexual and emotional aspects of their relationship, as well as a bit more kink. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Be well, take care of yourselves, drink some water, and try to get enough sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Mike do something in bed they've never done before. Will finds himself in a situation he is not as prepared for as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Sexual content. Extreme violence. Extremely graphic depictions of violence. Anxiety attacks. This chapter is not an easy chapter to read. If you feel like extremely violent content will upset you, avoid this chapter. This right here is the dark content I warned you all about after my cousin died.

Will liked arriving early and staying late; to an extent. There was something peaceful about it, when half the lights were out to save on energy costs, when he was alone and in the zone, working without all the buzz of computers and the chattering of coworkers. It was when he did his best work. He could concentrate and fall into the rhythm of the keys and everything else would just melt away. 

Usually. 

Mike complicated things. Complicated them and made them so much simpler. Will’s once chaotic world fell away to structure and discipline. Will couldn’t do things the way he had before, with no regard for himself or anyone else. He couldn’t work himself to the bone at all hours of the day without a break or a meal. Mike wouldn’t allow it. 

Will didn’t mind. Not at all.

After years of running buck wild, powered by caffeine, amphetamines, and anxiety as fuel for the fire that kept him productive, counterbalanced by liquor and sedatives to calm him back down, Mike stepping in and taking control was a welcome break. It seemed to make Mike as happy as it made Will. He seemed to enjoy having so much agency, not just over himself, but over Will as well. Will didn’t resist the commands. He encouraged them. He wanted Mike to explore this aspect of their relationship freely and without fear. Despite all of Will’s encouragement and compliance, the whole situation was still too new to be natural. Their interactions were still timid, still unsure. In the office was the worst; Mike seemed to just shrink whenever they were there, would barely speak at all. Even in the apartment, Mike was still restrained, like he was afraid Will would get tired of the game and snap at him or send him away eventually. The bedroom was the only place the tall man seemed fully comfortable in the roles they’d agreed on. 

Behind the closed doors of Will’s bedroom, there were no restraints. Well, there were _a few_.

Will gave himself to it willingly. He gave over every ounce of control he’d ever prided himself on having to Mike and let the freckled man lead him wherever he wanted to go. Will tried things he never would have thought of on his own and found he enjoyed some (waxplay, silken ties to bind him) while there were others he didn’t care for (the ballgag wasn’t a favorite). It was all so… freeing. Mike pushed, but never hard. He always kept an eye on Will, and could read his body language like a book and always reigned himself back in when things started to move away from Will’s comfort zone. 

Will lay back and thought about all of this while Mike straddled him. Mike was perched on top (as he seemed to like to be), sat astride Will’s waist as he clicked a padded cuff into place around the programmer’s wrist before attaching it to the slotted headboard. Will’s eyes felt heavy, he was having trouble focusing on the taller man. It was late, much later than they usually got started and their sessions… well, they had a tendency to last. The earnings quarter was next week and Mike had allowed Will to work longer on his projects than he normally would; it was nearly midnight now. If they were lucky, they’d be cleaned up and asleep by three. Mike patted Will’s cheek to get his attention and grinned. 

“Am I boring you already?” he drawled, a little sluggish himself. 

Will smiled back. 

“Never. Besides, you’ve only shown me about a dozen ways to orgasm. I’m expecting the full hundred and twenty seven.”

“Good,” Mike said as he wiggled and pressed his ass against Will’s half hard cock. “What happens when we’ve gone through them all? Will you be bored then?”

“I guess we’ll have to invent new ones,” Will said as he thrust up against the taller man. 

“Sounds perfect,” Mike said as he took Will by his free wrist to press a kiss into the programmer’s palm before clicking the second cuff into place. 

Will leaned back against the pillows, eyes still heavy, and sighed. He watched Mike above him kiss his second palm as he trailed his free hand across Will’s naked chest. Mike was all mouth and teeth and Will loved it. He just wished that at least _some_ of the kisses would end up on his mouth. So far, that was a no go. Mike didn’t do that and Will never demanded it. That was too personal for what this was. Still, Will liked this, being half dressed and resting beneath the freckled man while Mike took his time. He watched, tired but transfixed as the curly haired man began unbuttoning his own shirt. 

He was so pretty it was almost unfair. If there was a contest between the two, a pageant of some kind, Will knew who the clear winner was, and it wasn’t him. Every button that had been pulled free exposed more of Mike’s skin but his wild curls were still neatly slicked away from his face, unruffled from the activities they had planned. Will looked at him, at his peaceful face, expression more relaxed and calm than what he usually wore, and smiled. The only thing that marred the illusion of a regular man, a _free_ man was the collar. It would be gone soon. Scott had time this weekend to come by, to look at the damnable thing and see if his plan would work. 

Mike clicked the cuff into place and edged away, lower down Will’s body as he pulled his shirt free and folded it. He dropped the folded cloth to the floor and ran his hands across Will’s waist lightly, then across his nipples. Mike rolled them between his fingers, pinched them until Will was panting and bucking into him before he released them. Will didn’t know why Mike did that, why he made Will into a simpering mess before they even started. It was embarrassing to be so easily undone and Will flushed red from his soles to the roots of his hair. 

Mike moved lower down Will’s body until he was crouched between the shorter man’s knees. He gripped Will’s waist, hard, and pulled him down the length of the bed, as far as he could until the cuffs were taunt and Will’s wrists ached. Will squeaked in surprise and felt his toes curl in anticipation. 

So, it was going to be _that_ kind of night; the kind where Mike worked him hard and made him cum while toeing the line between pain and pleasure. Will would have thought that would be the only way Mike would want it, as a cathartic release for himself, but it wasn’t. Most nights were quiet, almost gentle games where the idea wasn’t to cause hurt, but simply test the boundaries of how far Will would let him go. 

Mike fumbled with Will’s belt, hands slow and sloppy from exhaustion. He pulled it free and set it aside as he dipped his head and ran his teeth across Will’s stomach. Will felt his eyes flutter when Mike bit down, just this side of pain. Will twisted against the restraints, hooked a leg over the taller man’s freckled shoulder and squeezed. Mike was still biting, kept kissing, kneading and squeezing and… yawning.

Will blinked heavily, tired, as Mike squeezed his thigh, dragged his nails across the material and yawned again. 

“Hey, um, wait,” Will whispered and tried to pull his leg away. 

Mike squeezed it harder, nipped at it through the fabric. Will Almost changed his mind, almost laid back and closed his eyes, let his legs go limp and rest over those strong, thin shoulders. But the shoulders in question were shaking, just a little. Mike’s dark, bambi eyes were a little red and heavy, like he was having just as much trouble focusing them as Will was. 

“Hang on,” Will said, drowsily. “Red.”

Mike froze, immediately released Will and sat back. His tired eyes were suddenly wide and focused. The shock of the change in Mike’s demeanor and behavior left Will a little breathless and he froze too. 

“Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” the thin man asked, voice hoarse as he looked at Will. 

Will quickly shook his head as he tried to find his voice. 

“No, nothing like that. You didn’t hurt me,” Will assured the other man who was looking at him, still unmoving, not touching. 

“Did I upset you?”

“No, of course not. Just um... “ Will shrugged as best he could with the way he was bound. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Mike replied, confusion clouding his features. 

“It’s just that…” Will hesitated before trying again. “It’s kind of late and we both had a long day.”

Mike sat still and looked him over but didn’t speak. Will felt his stomach start to knot in growing anxiety. 

“I just… I think that you, we,” he corrected. “Could _both_ use some sleep.”

Mike looked down at him, still confused, and quite suddenly, something else. Will couldn’t quite place the look. He couldn’t see it well in the dark of his room, and Mike was doing that thing he did when he would duck his head to hide. It didn’t work, his curls were held firm by the styling mousse he’d used. He had nowhere to hide the expression he wore and Will suddenly felt embarrassed. He wasn’t embarrassed because what he said was unreasonable, because it wasn't. Both men had been up and on their feet for almost twenty hours already and neither one of them was a teenager, filled with boundless energy that could be spent on all nighters and round after round of sex. He was embarrassed because Mike was hiding from him again, for the first time in weeks. 

“Am I… Have I been unsatisfactory? Are there things that you need that I haven’t been providing?” Mike asked quietly. 

Will felt that knot move from his stomach to his chest. Mike didn’t look tired anymore. He looked… scared? Definitely hurt, maybe a little offended, but scared too. Will shook his head again and tugged against the cuffs, suddenly wishing they were gone. 

“No! Are you kidding? You’re great,” Will explained. “You’re just… We’re both a little tired and I don’t really think I’m up to… you know,” he finished weakly. 

Mike looked at him, or more accurately, at a space below Will’s face. He stayed that way a long moment before shifting his weight. When he did, he still didn’t look up. 

“I can still take care of you,” Mike finally whispered. “You don’t have to do anything, I know you’re tired. I could… You could just lie there and I could ride you,” he offered and Will felt his mouth go dry. “You could have me like this, on top, milking you nice and slow…”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant,” Will said quietly, with a nervous laugh.

It wasn’t that the offer sounded bad, because it didn’t. It sounded _amazing_. Mike had never offered that before and Will had never asked. The thought of laying back and watching Mike’s long, lean body move above him, _riding Will’s cock_ until they both came was so powerful that Will felt himself jerk involuntarily. He bit down on his lip and let out a shaky breath. 

“Mike, you’re tired. We’re _both_ tired. I kind of thought maybe we could just… get some sleep?” 

The other man didn’t seem to know what to do with that. He looked at the spot below Will’s face for a long time before he leaned over to pick up the key and start working on the locked cuffs around Will’s wrists. Will closed his eyes, listened to the clicking of the locks as each of his arms were set free. He only opened them when Mike finished and crawled off the bed to stand and look for his shirt. Will sat up, feeling very much like he’d offended the freckled man. 

“Are you leaving?”

Mike paused, back to Will. 

“Of course. You need your rest.”

“Well, wait, hang on. I didn’t mean you had to go,” he tried to explain. 

Mike kept still as a stone, didn’t turn to look at him or continue dressing. Will licked his lips, anxiety choking words back down his throat before he could even speak them. 

“Are you telling me to stay?” Mike asked when Will failed to find his voice. 

“No, I’m not… not _telling_ (not ordering) you to. Just… you could, if you wanted to. You could stay and sleep here. If you wanted,” he repeated, throat tight. 

God, he sounded like an idiot; a babbling moron. He thought he’d been doing the right thing, putting a stop to something neither one of them was awake enough to enjoy, but that couldn’t have been what the safeword was designed for. Wasn’t it meant to stop things if they were too rough or too much to handle? There was no way it was supposed to be used to stop sex all together to ask for, what, _cuddling?_ That was never part of their agreement, their arrangement. Will didn’t have the right to ask for that and he felt so, so stupid and childish for it. What was _wrong_ with him?

“I’m sorry,” he croaked as he tried to correct himself. “You don’t have to do that. Of course you don’t. I’m sorry, I just-”

“-Stop,” Mike whispered, cutting him off. 

Will did. He stopped talking and waited for whatever it was Mike was going to do. The thin man still had his back to Will and that was the worst part of all of this. Will couldn’t read him in the dark with no facial expressions to look at. Mike might be furious at him for overstepping the boundaries they’d laid out and Will wouldn’t even know until he stormed out and slammed the door. Why did Will always do this? Why couldn’t he just relax and enjoy sex without questioning every aspect of it? Why did he have to complain every time he was ‘too tired’ and cry like an infant, desperate to be held and coddled? The hardest pill to swallow was that _Will knew better_ than to do that. It only ever caused fights in college and he never got what he wanted anyway. The best he could hope for was about three minutes of comforting touches after twenty minutes of being told he was a tease and could he at least use his hands if he was too tired to take it in the ass. Will would have been better off saying nothing at all. 

Will sat very quietly and very still and when Mike started to move, Will felt his stomach lurch. Mike was getting undressed; he was taking his slacks off and folding them before turning back around to face Will. Will didn’t move, didn’t know what to do. Was Mike going to press the sex issue? It seemed unlikely, at the very least _really_ out of character for him. But he hadn’t gotten dressed to leave, quite the opposite. Still, Will just… couldn’t picture Mike crawling on top of him, forcing his legs apart, and fucking him even after Will said ‘no’. No matter how dominant he played in bed, Mike wouldn’t do that. Not unless he thought it was part of a scene. He didn’t think that, did he? They had only mentioned consensual non consent in passing and Will had already said ‘red’, there was no way-

Mike tilted his head. 

“You’re still dressed,” he observed as he turned to fully face Will. 

“W-what?”

“Do you sleep in your work clothes? No wonder they’re always so wrinkled,” the tall man said gently, with just a hint of a smile. 

Will flushed at the light jab but quickly composed himself. 

“You’re staying?”

“You asked me to.”

Will breathed out of his nose slowly while he tried to choose his words. 

“You don’t… Don’t feel like you have to if you don’t want to. I’d _like_ you to spend the night here, but I don’t _need_ you to. Mike, you’re not obligated to do something if it makes you uncomfortable. You know that, right?”

_Please tell me you know that._

Mike shifted and Will scooted to the side of the bed to make room for the freckled man to sit if he wanted to.

“I know,” the other man finally replied, voice small. 

Will sighed, relieved, and closed his eyes. 

“Do you like the left or the right?”

“What?”

Oh, that had been a strange non sequitur hadn’t it? Will shook his head and stood up to wiggle free from his own pants while Mike looked at him, perplexed. 

“Sorry, I meant what side of the bed do you like? To sleep on? Or are you kind of a middle-man?” he explained and cringed when he did. God, why was he so painfully _awkward_? 

Mike looked at the bed for a moment before speaking. 

“The right.”

Will tried to bury the horrible awkwardness under what he hoped was a confident smile and walked around the foot of the bed. He sat, back straight, and waited without turning. There was still a chance Mike would make a run for it, leave Will alone in the dark and return to his own room. Will felt the bed shift and a hand touch his back. He glanced over his shoulder to Mike who was already laying on his side, under the covers. 

“Lay down. I’m here.”

Will did as he was told. He curled up, pulled the blankets to his neck and lay quietly watching the other man. Mike edged closer, put an arm around him and pulled Will’s stiff body towards his own. Mike was warm and comforting and close enough to kiss. Will closed his eyes and exhaled. Their bodies were lined up, touching skin to skin and Will wanted to curl into it. He felt himself drift, almost asleep when Mike shifted, just a little. It was like the taller man wanted to roll over or get up to leave, like he’d done the first night they’d found themselves in bed together. Will blinked, groggy, and looked at him. 

Mike’s eyes weren’t open and he didn’t look like he was trying to slip out, thinking Will was already asleep. His brow was pinched and his mouth was drawn in a tight line, like something hurt. Will scooted closer and the freckled man across from him opened his eyes and, noticing Will still awake, spoke. 

“Are you alright?”

Will bumped his forehead against Mike’s sharp chin. 

“You stole my question.”

“What do you mean?’

“You look like something hurts. Is it another headache? Want me to grab you an aspirin?”

Mike pulled away a little and shook his head. 

“I’m fine.”

“Liar,” Will whispered. He saw Mike stiffen, just a little, like the comment had struck too close to home. Will reached to touch his face. “Hey, stop. Don’t do that. It’s okay to be human. I was just teasing you. Tell me what’s up.”

Mike didn’t say anything, didn’t even move. Will used the hand on his face to push a curl away so the Domestic couldn’t hide and ran his fingers down Mike’s neck, his arm. He kept stroking over the taller man, kept touching until Mike shifted again. 

“My shoulder hurts.”

Will blinked, surprised. 

“You’re allowed to roll over and get comfortable, you know,” he said. Did he think he wasn’t? Did he think Will would shout or get angry if he needed to roll over? “Come on,” he urged and pressed against Mike’s chest to flip him. 

Mike went quietly, without a struggle until his back was facing Will. Then he lay very still, like he and Will were playing ‘light as a feather, stiff as a board’ without all the midnight snacks and giggling that would usually accompany the sleepover game. Will pressed a hand against the freckled shoulder now exposed to him and started rubbing. He dug the heel of his palm into the flesh, tried to relax it and alleviate the hurt. It took so long for Mike to relax into the touch that Will thought his hand might go numb, but when Mike finally gave in it was rewarding. Every bit of control Mike had crumbled away one piece at a time until he was loose and pliant. Will thought he even heard soft sounds, like choked moans or whimpers as Mike curled closer and finally settled into the pillows. 

Will continued for a long time, listening to those sweet sounds. He’d been intent on keeping it up until Mike finally fell asleep and only stopped because the taller man was moving again. Will let his hand fall away so Mike could press against him, back to chest. Will slowly wrapped his arm totally around the thin man and held him softly. Was this okay? It seemed like what Mike wanted but it was hard to tell. Mike very rarely vocalized the things he wanted, but Will was getting better at learning anyway. This little movement, closing the space between them until they were flush against each other was a request for something Mike couldn’t say. 

Will held on softly, pressed his cheek to the man’s freckled back. He could hear Mike’s heartbeat. He couldn't hear it as clearly as he could those times after sex when they were both exshausted and collapsed against each other, Will’s head on Mike’s chest, but he could hear it nonetheless. He pressed his ear against Mike’s boney spine and listened to the slow rhythm until all of the remaining tension left the taller man and Will was sure he was asleep. Will slept like that, pressed against Mike so tightly he thought they might melt and meld together as a single person. When he woke, they had both moved, but not away from one another. Will woke on his back with Mike curled over his chest, head pressed there like he was trying to listen to Will’s heart too. 

**

Will was nervous. 

He knew he should be excited because things were finally starting to come together, but the signals always seemed to get mixed up in his head, like the wires would cross and the little men in uniform that ran his bodily functions would look at them, confused. ‘What? Excitement? Something must be going on. We better prepare for trouble,’ they’d tell themselves as they manned their battle stations and sent surge after surge of cortisol and catecholamine through his system. Will wished they would stop. 

Scott was coming by in just a few days to see if the ‘exploitable flaw’ would work. Will had told Mike about it; well about the visit at least. He’d told him to expect Scott over for company and that the older man would want to examine his collar so that Mike would have time to prepare himself for it. Mike hadn’t said much, had only nodded and looked back to the chicken cutlets he’d been seasoning. 

Will didn’t hold the lack of reaction against him though. It was clear that he didn’t care for many people and Will didn’t blame him. Scott wasn’t the only exciting thing Will had going on this week. He finally had the alpha version of his demo ready and Mr. Walsh had agreed to a meeting on Wednesday to discuss it. It was Monday now and the end of the earnings quarter was Friday. Will had finished his portion of the work over the weekend and was excited to get the chance to run his own program on the company computers while he worked and tweaked it. Will knew he was busy and that it wasn’t fair to Mike, that he wasn’t getting enough attention. 

Will would apologize when this was all over. He’d take Mike out, anywhere he wanted to go. As soon as Scott left and that fucking collar was off and Will had secured his invitation to the tech expo, he’d take Mike out to celebrate. Mike could go anywhere he wanted, could wear anything he wanted without having to worry about whether or not the collar was exposed. They could really do it up, just two guys out (on a date) the town, not a Domestic and… an owner. 

Will would make it up to Mike, all of it. He’d make up for the late nights and the missed meals. He knew the only reason he’d been able to even get this far was because of the dark haired man. Mike kept him focused, on track. Will would make it all up to him on Saturday, but today, Mike would have to be content with taking Will’s card and going to the cafeteria to eat by himself while Will worked through lunch. 

Will tapped his pen against the desk and wiggled his foot as he clicked away from his work to look over bank statements. He’d set aside about two thousand for a secured credit card for Mike, just like he’d promised, and an Amazon account. Shortly after that, little packages had started trickling in one at a time. All of them made it through his apartment’s security without getting flagged, so Will never bothered to pry into what was in them. He just handed them to Mike who would take them either to his room or to the balcony depending on what was in them. 

Sometimes he’d open them in plain view and Will would get a glimpse. They were all such… ordinary things; a vellux blanket, one of those bath bomb variety packs. Mike apparently favored bergamot as the next set that arrived contained only that scent and a complimentary matching lotion. It was endearingly sweet, the things Mike ordered, and Will loved being able to watch Mike discover things he liked. When he’d first arrived, he hadn’t seemed to have a preference for _anything_ much less what smell of toiletries he enjoyed. 

Will leaned back to stretch and crack his back. He yawned and craned his neck as he looked around. From where Will sat, he could see across almost the entirety of the 29th floor. The open layout was supposed to promote ‘a sense of unity’, though Will suspected it was more of a vague threat or motivator. If the management actually cared about unity, their offices would have windows for people to see into instead of the impenetrable fortresses they seemed to be. The ‘unity’ only seemed to be applied to the worker bees. 

Sheets of wall length glass separated the various teams so they could all see one another at any time. This was motivating in two ways; one, it allowed the teams to see the others working through their lunch breaks (as what was happening now with the earnings quarter only days away), and two, it allowed everyone to see the supervisors roaming through, eyes on everyone. Wil looked out over the sea of half empty desks and smiled. For once he wasn’t the one in a panic, trying to squeeze the most of what was left out of every minute that remained in the work day. Instead of taking their meals away from the office, almost every programmer had sent their Domestics out to bring food in while they hunched over their desks and worked. 

So Will leaned back and enjoyed the view and the comfort that he was ahead of schedule, even compared to the senior programmers. He blinked as the office across the hall, team three’s office, and watched in confusion at what was happening. There were four muffled pops and three people fell out of sight as others stood. Will watched, not understanding, and turned to look at the rest of his team. A few were looking around but most had their noses buried so deep in their computers, headphones on while they worked, that they hadn’t even noticed anything amiss. Will jumped when he heard the popping again and this time a few more people looked up, concerned. 

The screaming probably helped break whatever trance Will was in because one moment he was staring stupidly across the hall and the next he was out of his chair, grabbing the nearest programmer to him by the shoulder to get her attention. 

“Jesse, is that…?” he asked, still not processing exactly what it was he was seeing even as he watched the glass around their office shatter and fall to the ground like winter's first snow. 

His coworker stared, open mouthed, and didn’t move. Her multicolored, manicured fingers hovered over her keyboard, cat ear headphones still securely in place.

“What?” She asked quietly, just as confused as him.

“Call security!” Will hissed as he fell to his knees next to the woman’s desk, looking for cover. 

That seemed to rouse her, at least a little, and she reached for her phone. She blinked at it, then at Will who was near her knees. 

“I- I don’t remember the number,” she explained, green eyes wide as the phone sat uselessly in her hands. 

Will looked at her but couldn’t speak. He couldn’t remember it either. 

Jesse looked back at the phone in her shaking hands and tried to dial. There was a pop and her chest erupted in blood and her chair fell back with her in it. 

Will watched in horror, chest so tight he couldn’t even cry out while his heart pounded so hard and so fast he was sure he was about to go into cardiac arrest. He sat frozen for longer than he should and watched his teammate on the ground in front of him struggling to breathe before he moved automatically to push himself into the space beneath her desk, tangled himself in the wires of her computer. Active shooter. There was an active shooter. Okay. Okay. 

Will had been to public school, had gone through the drills from second grade all the way through graduation. He made himself very small in the space, ducked his face between his knees and covered his head. 

_Close your eyes. Don’t move. Stay small and unnoticeable. Don’t draw attention._

Will tried to concentrate on counting as high as he could. He didn’t get past fifteen. He tried to remember the konami cheat code for all of his old games and got as far as up up down down. The only thing he could hear was the sounds of screaming, the pop pop pop of gunfire, and Jesse gurgling wetly as she tried to keep breathing only a foot away from where he hid. Will closed his eyes and covered his ears but it did nothing to block out the sounds or the smells of what was happening. 

No one had told him there would be smells. The sulphuric scent of the smoke and the heavy scent of blood was something he just wasn’t prepared to deal with. His stomach tightened and he thought he might throw up. He felt his body try to scream, try to join in the chorus of his coworkers, and he swallowed it down.

The schools had tried to get the students ready. They had given all the proper instruction on how to best defend yourself, how to stay still and small, and not panic. Will was definitely panicking, but he couldn’t even move to run. He heard Jesse moan and wanted to crawl to her, drag her into the hiding space too. He couldn’t do that. He shouldn’t move her without risk of injuring her further, and the shooter had seen her go down. If Will moved her and the shooter walked by, he’d be found out.

_Don’t run, don’t move,_ he reminded himself. _Don’t make yourself a target. Stay right where you are and stay hidden. Most mass shootings last less than three minutes. You can survive this for three fucking minutes can’t you?_

He heard people moving, heard the popping and horrible squelching thuds as more people, more _bodies_ hit the floor. 

“Designation?”

“What?”

“Designation.”

“I don’t, I don't understand-“ 

Pop. Thud.

Will tried again to think of something, _anything_ other than what was happening. His legs were shaking and he could barely keep them pressed together and over his vital organs. He heard movement so close to him that for a moment he forgot how to breathe, thought there was a very real chance he might piss himself. It passed and he pulled at his own hair, ran his nails across his scalp.

“When I was young, I fell in love. I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead. Will we have rainbows day after day? Here's what my sweetheart said,” Will he whispered shakily through chattering teeth and buried his head further between his hands. “Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be… The future's not ours to see… Que sera, sera.”

Will hadn’t heard that song in ages, didn’t even _like_ it. Why was it the only one he could think of right now?

Three minutes of this and then it would be over and he could go home to Mike and-

-Where the **fuck** was Mike?

Will opened his eyes, panic renewed. He wanted to climb out from under the desk, look around and make sure Mike wasn’t one of the scattered bodies that decorated the ground like forgotten confetti. He had to go find him. Mike must be terrified by himself, or in _pain_ -

- _Stop it. Mike’s fine. He’s in the cafeteria eating a nice summer squash bisque or he's already been evacuated. He’s **fine**. Don’t you **dare** move you idiot. Unless you want a hole in your chest, then you can move all you want. You’ve always had a death wish, haven’t you? Ever since the first time you took a handful of pills without looking at what they were, you’ve flirted with it. How old were you? Twelve? Thirteen? What were you doing up on that roof if you weren’t trying to die? You didn’t step off then, too much of a coward. You should do it now. Get up and crawl out from under the desk. This is the perfect opportunity. Looks like you’re going to get your wish, you ungrateful, spoiled brat- _

_-Shut the fuck up. Just shut up. Two and a half more minutes and it will be over and then you can do whatever you want. Two and a half more minutes and you can find Mike._

_Unless they take hostages. Hostage situations can last hours, even days. No, that’s not what they’re doing. They’re shooting to kill. Is that better or worse? Why are they trying to kill us? What the fuck is happening? **Why** the fuck is this happening? Someone’s called security and it’s going to be over soon. Don’t you dare fucking move._

Will did his best to follow his own instructions. He kept his eyes closed and whispered his stupid songs and waited. He didn’t know how long he stayed under the desk after the popping stopped. He heard movement but didn’t look up. Someone grabbed him by the arm and drug him out of his hiding spot, dumped him on the floor near Jesse who was still breathing shallowly. Will blinked but everything was grey and he could barely see. He couldn’t understand the words being said to him, but he saw the gun.

It wasn’t pointed at him. It’s muzzle was near the ground, so he blinked again. He turned away, still not understanding the words the gunman said. All he could focus on was his teammate, the one who worked the closest to him, the one that offered him Bubble Yum gum at inappropriate times (usually team meetings), told stupid jokes, and sang Broadway tunes off key. All he could see through his pinpoint vision was the bloody hole in her body. 

_Not her ‘body’, she’s alive._

“Sh- she needs a doctor,” Will finally croaked out. 

The man above him looked down, nodded in agreement, and spoke into the walkie on his shoulder. 

“I have two more, east office. One needs medical. Moving to continue to sweep.”

The man, a security unit Will finally realized, started to move again. Will reached for him. 

“Hey, wait,” he gasped. “She needs help.”

“I’m sorry Sir, I’m not trained for that. Others will be here soon.”

_Well, neither am I! I don’t know what to do!_

Will watched in horror as the Domestic moved on, checking other bodies and speaking into his walkie from time to time. Will watched him pull other people from their hiding spaces, watched his coworkers just as disoriented and blanched as him try to find their feet. Will turned back to Jesse, crawled over to her and pressed his hands against the hole in her chest. The woman moaned and her eyes fluttered. 

“I know, I know it hurts. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just hang in there, you’ll be okay.”

**

Will sat on the curb, a thermal blanket wrapped around his shoulders while he looked at the concrete and his borrowed, paper shoes. He’d had to give his own shoes and jacket to the officers on scene as evidence; they wanted to analyze Jesse’s blood splatter on them. Will tried his best to answer every question asked as his nails were swabbed,, tried to write his statement as clearly as he could, and cooperate with the EMTs. 

Will wasn’t a suspect and he was injured, so the officers had moved on. EMTs gave him oxygen and a light sedative and released him back into the wild so they could deal with people who needed them more. Even with all the cooperation Will gave them, no one seemed willing to answer his questions.

_‘Where’s Mike?’_

_‘I’m sorry?’_

_‘My… My Domestic. He was in the building.’_

_‘If he’s alive and uninjured, he’ll be taken in for questioning.’_

_‘What? Why? Can’t he just give a statement?’_

_‘Procedure, Sir.’_

_‘Do you know where he is?’_

_‘In this chaos? No.’_

_‘You can’t even tell me if he’s alive?’_

_The officer had rolled their eyes._

_‘We haven't finished processing the bodies.’_

_‘But the survivors,’ fuck, people were **dead**. There were **bodies** ‘I mean, don’t you know who they are? Can’t I just give you his designation and you can at least find out?’_

_‘Sir, that’s not my department. I suggest you call your company liaison. They should be able to ping its GPS and walk you through what to expect in a situation like this.’_

So Will sat on the curb and looked at his feet. He held the phone loosely in his hands and waited. Every time he’d tried to call the number, it was busy. Barb must be overwhelmed with calls right now. There were thousands of people who worked in the building, she had to have other clients calling her for information. So Will waited and played with his phone. He wished he had the tablet with him, so he could just check Mike’s GPS and vitals for himself, but he didn’t. He hadn’t used the thing in weeks. It was likely dead in a drawer somewhere (dead like Mike probably was) at his apartment from going so long without being charged. 

Will dialed again and almost cried he was so relieved to hear the line on the other end ring. Someone answered and a very tired sounding woman spoke. 

“Barbara Holland, how can I help you?”

“H- hi Barb. It’s Will Byers. You’re my liaison for… for…”

“Of course Mr. Byers. I am very aware of the situation at hand. How can I assist you?”

“I don’t know where my- I can’t find… No one will even tell me if he’s even _alive_ ,” Will tried to explain. 

“Of course. Give me one moment while I sync its signal and we’ll get this all sorted out in no time. This will take just a moment.”

Will waited, listened to the clicking of gets on the other end of the phone and tried to keep calm. He heard a few murmurings under Barb’s breath but couldn’t make out the words. 

“Okay, here we are. CMP8908 is in one of our holding facilities. His vitals are steady, but it doesn’t look like he’s been processed yet. When an incident like this happens-” 

“- _When_? How often does this happen?” Will asked, cutting her off. 

“-Your Domestic will be questioned. It’s just procedure, Sir. We have systems in place for this sort of thing and they are very efficient. I’d expect your Domestic to be released and returned to you by no later than Thursday.”

“Thursday? It takes that long? Questioned? Does he need a lawyer?” Will asked, leg bouncing nervously again. Barb wasn’t the first one to mention procedure and ‘things like this’. How fucking often did this happen?

“Of course not,” Barb laughed, as if it was the most absurd question she’d ever heard. “We handle matters like this internally. A representative will contact you with all the paperwork within twenty-four hours-”

“-What paperwork?” Will asked, feeling more confused by the second.

“-Everything is fine, Sir. We’ll contact you as soon as your Domestic is ready to be released.”

“But he’s okay, right?”

“Of course. It's in very capable hands.”

“Okay… Thanks.”

“It’s my pleasure, Sir,” Barb said, though she didn’t sound like it was a pleasure. She must have other calls coming in. 

Will heard the line go dead. He set the phone down and looked at it blankly. Well, at least Mike was alive. Was he scared? Was he alone? Will had to get home and check on him, check his vitals. Will stood, patted his pockets, searching for his keys. Fuck, he’d left them on his desk. How was he supposed to get home?

Will looked around, saw some of his coworkers mulling about trying to orient themselves in the chaos. He knew some of them lived in the same building as him, maybe he could ask for a ride? Will tried to walk to them, but his legs were heavy from the sedative. He took a few fumbling steps and almost fell. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone trotting over to him. It was Mr. Walsh. 

“Will, you alright?”

“I’m fine, Sir. Just a little tired.”

“Of course, that’s understandable. Been a hell of a day. Glad to see you made it through,” Troy said as he squeezed Will’s shoulder. 

Will nodded and took a step away. 

“I’m glad you’re alright, Sir,” he admitted, glad to see _someone_ he knew was alright, that they didn’t have a massive bleeding wound in their chest, that they weren’t drowning in their own blood, making those horrible, wet sounds-. 

“I heard your office was in the thick of it. You look pretty shaken up,” Try said and looked Will over critically. 

Will laughed nervously and straightened his back, his shirt. He ran a hand over his hair and tried to smooth it down. 

“S- sorry,” he laughed weakly and glanced at Troy. “You look great though,” he laughed again. 

It was true. Other than the rolled up sleeves and missing jacker, Troy didn’t look any worse for the wear. He looked every part the leader, moving from groups of people, checking on them before moving on. Troy laughed and slapped Will on the back. 

“Thanks. I wasn’t actually here. Had a business lunch out of the office, came back as soon as I heard what happened though. Hey, you alright?”

Will still felt wobbly and it must have shown because he was slouching again. He straightened back up and forced a smile. 

“I’m fine. I just need to get home. I uh, left my keys inside. You don’t think they’d let me in to get them, do you?” he asked like an idiot as he glanced at the building and the officers swarming it. 

“Doubtful,” Troy said with a shrug. “They’re not going to let anyone in until they get everything they need. Besides, you don’t really look like you should be driving,” the older man noted. 

Will blushed, embarrassed. It was probably true. He could hardly walk a straight line, he shouldn’t be trying to drive. He tapped the phone in his pocket, agitated and ready to get home, to find the tablet and get it charged so he could check on Mike. 

“I guess it’s an Uber for me then,” Will chuckled and extracted the phone. He tried to unlock the screen but even running his fingers in the right pattern felt strangely difficult. He tried again and Troy touched his arm. 

“I can drive you.”

Will blinked up at his supervisor. 

“Oh no, Sir, that’s a generous offer but I can’t.”

Troy rolled his eyes and put a hand on Will’s back, already leading him to the parking garage. 

“Come on, just take the offer. You shouldn’t be alone right now anyway.”

Will hesitated, drug his feet a little. It felt unprofessional, too personal to accept a ride from his boss. But Troy’s hand was strong and Will couldn’t think of a valid excuse to refuse him, not when he was being so kind. He pocketed his phone and smiled politely as Troy pushed him towards the underground lot, hand on his back the whole time to keep him steady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since Mike's suicide attempt that we're going to have some serious divergence from the other character's chapters. I'm thinking the divergence will last about two chapters with the characters in totally separate places from each other and have little to no interactions. Oh boy. Things are getting dark. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Be well and take care of yourselves.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has a difficult time dealing with being alone after the shooting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Brief gore. Substance abuse. Very mild overdose. Anxiety.

Will looked out the window, let his head lean against it as he watched the world pass by. He felt numb, shocked, and unbelievably tired. He’d been nervous to even get into Troy’s car (what if he got dried blood on the leather?), but his supervisor had insisted with a ‘I’ll get it detailed later’. Will had still dug his heels in a little, not at all comfortable with getting into a car that probably cost more than the house he grew up in while covered in dried blood. Troy was insistent; had kept his hand on Will’s back, opened the door for him, and helped ease him in despite Will’s protests. 

Will didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the help, even if it was a little pushy. Considering how shaky he was on his own feet, he wasn’t sure he could have made the walk or gotten into the car on his own without tripping once or twice. He felt clumsy, like his neurons were firing too slow for the actions he wanted to take. It was embarrassing and made him feel infantilized. He couldn’t even work the buckle of his own belt; Troy had to reach across Will’s lap and do it for him. 

“Safety first,” Troy joked to put him at ease when Will tensed. 

“Oh course,” Will agreed, though he was uncomfortable with the close proximity and recoiled from it. There was no way for Troy to buckle the seatbelt without touching him, and Will looked away in an effort to hide how humiliating this was. Troy clicked it into place and pulled away, leaving Will with room to breathe.

“So, you place?” the older man asked with a light smile. Will blinked, unsure if he’d heard that correctly. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Where do you live? So I can drop you off.”

“Oh, um, off Monument Circle,” Will mumbled, still feeling a little hazy and shell shocked by everything that had happened. He silently scolded himself for how slow his mind was moving and how inept he was being right now. It was the first time he’d ever had any real, one on one interactions with Mr. Walsh and he wasn’t even taking advantage of it. If anything, he was ruining it with his clumsiness and slow witted responses. Will wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Walsh was reevaluating his opinion of Will and would resend the tentative invitation to the expo in September. Will was making himself look like an incompetent fool and he wouldn’t be surprised at all if Troy did. 

He looked down at his hands, tried to force the little twitches to stop. Even though he’s had his nails scrapped for evidence, and even though he’d washed them, there were still dark flecks trapped under them. Will could see them and didn’t understand how he hadn’t gotten it all off. He began to pick at them, at his cuticles until they ached. He scratched at the flecks so long he began to worry they’d start bleeding if he didn’t stop. He jumped a little, startled, when an arm landed on his headrest, distracting him and drawing attention away from his nails. Will glanced from the corner of his eye to watch Troy as he drove, but the other man was concentrating on the road. Will wanted to lean his head back against the cool glass of the window, but that would have been too close to Troy’s dangling fingers. He settled instead on sitting as still has he could and not bothering the other man further than he already had. 

“So, Will, what do you like to eat?”

Will blinked, wondering if his slow moving mind was mishearing what had been asked. 

“What?”

“For our meeting. Everyone is going to be working remotely for the time being, until the investigation is concluded and the cleanup is done,” Troy said as he tapped his fingers against Will’s headrest. “So I guess our meeting will have to be over dinner. So what do you like?”

“Oh, um,” he glanced at the tapping fingers, distracted by them. At least he hadn’t ruined his image so badly with his clumsiness that Troy had changed his mind on the meeting all together. “I’m not particular.”

It made sense he supposed, that everyone would have to stay away from the office for the time being. To be honest, he wasn’t even thinking about work. He started picking at his nails again. He could still feel Jesse’s wet, warm blood beneath his hands as he tried to keep her from bleeding out from her wounds.

He felt like a coward. He should have tried harder, gone to her sooner. By the time he even thought to pull his jacket off and use it to staunch the bleeding instead of his bare hands, Jesse was so pale she looked like sun bleached bones. He’d sometimes see things like that in the gift shops that littered the southwestern cities they’d stopped at while Jonathan drove. They’d always just been passing through, so Will couldn’t even say what cities they were, and he’d never bought any. The point of stopping at the shops wasn’t to buy parts of corpses; Will just needed fresh clothes after he got carsick and vomited on his. Because of the impromptu nature of their trip, with no real idea where they’d wind up, Will had brought only hoodies and sweaters. It was overheating that made him vomit in the first place, so Jonathan bought him a cheesy, oversized tee with a howling wolf on it. Will wondered if he still had it.

Will looked out the window and suddenly missed his brother desperately. Jonathan always knew how to take his mind off of things; whether it was by an unplanned car trip or just sitting with him in the fort they’d built together as kids. Jonathan would know what to say to keep Will from thinking about blood and the blanched, giftshop bones. 

“No preference? You’re pretty easy, huh?” Troy asked with a grin, drawing Will’s attention again.

“I guess,” he said with a shrug as he watched a light turn yellow and Troy drive through it anyway. Only a few blocks now; then he’d be home and be able to find that stupid fucking tablet and get it charged.

“That’s a nice change,” Troy continued, fingers still tapping. “I’m used to all these corporate dickheads who have to be wined and dined before they give anything up. You like burgers? I wouldn’t mind a beer and burger while we talk.”

“Burgers are fine,” Will agreed, too distracted by the sight of his building on the skyline to really care one way or another what they ate over the meeting. Will shifted as he felt eyes fall on him and the arm pulled away so Troy could use both to make a sharp turn. Will gripped the armrest to keep himself stable and unmoving as the motion of the car tried to pull him in one direction or another. 

“Jeez kid, you’re really shaken up, huh?” Troy asked as he eyed Will’s clenched fingers on the leather.

Will felt a little embarrassed and tried to settle down his hands again. How was he supposed to feel right now? He’d never been through an active shooter situation. He’d never had his hands _inside_ of a coworker, trying his best to keep them from dying while touching parts of her that were never meant to be felt by a human hand. Will twitched at the memory, still disturbed by how warm and wet and _slippery_ it was when he put his weight into the pressure he put on the wound. Was he supposed to _not_ be shaken up by that? Maybe he needed to toughen up, like Lonnie always told him. Maybe a first aid class. Someone had to offer a condensed, basic course on emergency care. If Will was going to keep finding himself in situations with people bleeding out around him (Mike, Jesse, how many others?) he should look into ways to prepare himself. 

Will felt his hands start to shake again and he shoved them into his jacket pockets to hide it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said to Troy, ashamed of himself. Troy didn’t even look disheveled, let alone ‘shaken up’. 

“Hey, it’s alright. I’ll get you home. Corporate will bring in a specialist to help everyone through this. This isn’t our first rodeo.”

Will looked at him. This wasn’t the first time someone had said something like that. Maybe the thought that he needed to take a first aid class wasn’t the over reaction. How often should Will expect to be shot at? He cleared his throat and looked down at his knees.

“What… does that mean? Does this happen a lot?”

Troy shrugged. 

“Often enough that we’ve got armed security every third floor and specialists on retainer.”

Will chewed his lip. If this happened on a frequent enough basis to have measures in place, precautions for it, how had it happened at all? How had the shooter gotten in?

“I um, I’ve never read about it before… In the news, I mean,” he said softly, trying to contribute to the conversation rather than force Troy to carry it.

“Well you wouldn’t. We have an amazing PR team,” Troy said with a laugh, as if he was proud of that. Will wasn’t sure he thought it was something to be proud of. He doubted he would have accepted the position offered to him if he’d known that situations like the one that unfolded today happened on a semi regular basis. It felt like being lied to. Lied to by omission and ‘an amazing PR team’ keeping it under wraps. “Don’t worry,” Troy continued. “We’re going to take care of this. We’re going to take care of you, Will. We always look out for our people,” he finished as he gave Will’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

Will nodded, head swimming. This was too much, _way too much_ to deal with right now. He just wanted to go home and check on Mike. He wanted _out of this car_ and he never wanted to go to the office again. He wanted to hide in the apartment where he and Mike would be safe and never go out again. The hand on his shoulder squeezed harder and Will looked up. 

“We’re here.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, still dazed. 

Troy released Will’s shoulder and reached across the other man to open Will’s door for him. He leaned heavily over Will, almost draped his body across him. Will stiffened as the other man’s hand closed over the handle swung it open. It felt too much like being boxed in or trapped, even though Will was sure it was just an act of kindness on his supervisor’s part. When Troy leaned back and away, Will let himself relax a little. 

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Will assured the other man with a tight smile. “Still just shaken up.”

“I understand. Are you alright to get up to your unit alone? Need me to take you up?”

“That’s very kind,” Will said quickly and looked away, to the open door. “But I’ll be fine. You don’t have to trouble yourself with that. I can manage on my own.”

“You sure? It’s not a problem for me to come up for a minute.”

Will nodded and slipped out of the car, eager to get away from the confining space and back up to his apartment. His legs still felt shaky and he had to place a hand on the hood to balance himself. He might even have accepted the offer for help if he wasn’t worried about looking even more pathetic than he already did. Besides, he really just wanted to get inside and start tearing the place apart to find the tablet. He really wasn’t in any shape to play host right now, no matter what social etiquette might demand of him. 

“I’m sure. Thank you, I really appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Get some rest, kid. You’ll get an email in the morning from corporate, probably a whole slew of them. They’ll set you up with all the information you need about what to expect moving forward.”

Will nodded again and took a step away from the car. He offered a half wave to Troy, but the other man wasn’t looking. He was already pulling away and out of the lot. Will hurried into his building and after giving a (very abridged) explanation of what happened to the front desk, was given a spare key and a package from Amazon. He set the parcel aside and began searching for the tablet and the charger as soon as he walked in the door. He found it locked away in his desk drawer with the correctional device he’d never used. He grabbed the tablet and a handful of pills before heading to his room to plug the thing in. 

It took an infuriatingly long time to boot up and even longer to install all the updates Will had neglected in the last six weeks. Frustrated with both himself and the situation in general, Will stripped and tried again to scrub his hands clean (why couldn’t he get them clean?). When they were red and raw, Will returned to his bed to check on the status of the updates. Estimated time remaining, four minutes. 

He stripped and kicked the clothes away, never wanting to see them again, before he flopped onto the bed to wait. It felt like an eternity but when everything was finally up and running, Will stared down at the screen, searching. The vital signs were fine. Mike was fine. The GPS was having some kind of syncing error so Will had no idea where the other man might be, but he was alive and he was _fine_. 

He could have cried with relief. Even though people had told him over the phone that it was true, Will couldn’t banish the visions of Mike being zipped up in a body bag from his mind until he saw that stead, pulsing beat with his own eyes. It was a little elevated of course (Mike had to be so stressed and anxious, wherever he was, and who could blame him?), but they were steady and clear. Will curled up on his bed and after checking to make sure his security system was active, chewed up the pills to help him sleep. He was perfectly aware that it wasn’t even six in the evening, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay awake with nothing but his own thoughts for company. All he could think about was the blood, the ‘pop pop pop’, and the look of surprise on Jesse’s face as she fell. Will couldn’t stop wondering where Mike was when it happened. Did he even know why he was being taken in? Had anyone even told him why he was where he was right now, or if he’d ever be let out? 

Will could have called his mom, his brother, hell, even Dustin probably would have picked up the phone for him. He couldn’t bear it. The thought of calling _anyone_ and having to explain what happened felt too overwhelming. The thing he wanted most was gone; he didn’t even know where Mike was being held. Will, with no other coping mechanism and tired from the quickly dispersing benzos in his system, wanted to sleep and forget this had ever happened.

He turned the volume on the tablet all the way up so he could listen to the pattern of Mike’s vitals steadily beeping, elevated as they were, and fell asleep to the sound. 

**

Will woke the next day and immediately turned to the tablet. He looked at it, annoyed and bleary eyed. The tablet was bright, but there was no sound anymore, no steady, rhythmic beep. Will refreshed the thing and waited. Synching error. Will couldn’t even see Mike’s vitals and take comfort in them. For a brief, horrible moment, Will was afraid Mike had inexplicably died in the night. He refreshed it again, anxiety creeping in, but was only greeted with the same message: syncing error. It was the same error he’d gotten for the GPS, but it didn’t mean Mike had _died_. The vitals weren’t _gone_ , the tablet just couldn’t sync with them. 

Frustrated, he pushed it aside and rolled over to look at the clock. It was absurdly early, barely after five. He would have liked to close his eyes and fall back to sleep, just stay in the dark for as long as he could, but he was restless and a critical little voice in his mind was already chastising him for having slept for nearly twelve hours as it was. He sighed and pushed himself up to stumble to his restroom. 

He tried to get himself as cleaned up as he could; showered, washed his hands again, and brushed his teeth. His mouth was so dry it felt like he’d swallowed sand. He turned on the faucet and dipped down, tilted his head to drink straight from the tap for as long as he could before his neck started to ache before shutting the water off. He dressed quickly, in something comfortable and loose, before flopping back onto the bed to check the tablet again. The ‘Synching Error’ message blinked up at him cheerfully at him and Will felt a sudden impulse to throw the fucking thing across the room and watch it shatter. 

Obviously that wasn’t the best course of action, so he pulled his phone free to call the customer support line. Will lay on his back, listening to the ring and tried not to stare too heavily or too long at the wall he shared with Mike’s room. No one was in there right now. When would he be back? When would he be allowed to come _home_? There was no doubt in Will’s mind that Mike hadn’t done anything wrong and wasn’t involved with what happened; it was just cruel to keep him so long for questioning when Will was certain the taller man would have been more comfortable back in the apartment, in his own space. 

“Thank you for calling customer support-”

Will sat up and pressed his back to the wall. 

“-Yes, hello. I’m having trouble with-”

“-For English, press one. Para Espanol, oprima dos.”

Will quickly pressed the one and waited to be connected. The phone rang again and Will chewed his thumb nail even though it was already down to a nub. When he thought he tasted blood, even though he was sure he’d imagined it (how many times did he really have to wash his hands?), he released the nail to pull at a loose thread on his comforter. 

“Thank you for calling Noble Synergy, your most trusted resource in Personal Assistance Products since 1984-”

“-Hello, hi, I’m having trouble with-”

“-For billing questions, please press one. For contract inquiries, please press two.”

Will ground his teeth in frustration and tugged on the thread. He pulled it, saw the fabric of the comforter bunch up before the thread snapped. He started wrapping the thread around his finger, watched it turn red and purple before releasing the pressure and doing it all over again. 

“For inquiries about replacement products, please press three. For hardware issues, please press four. For software issues, please press five, for-” 

Will quickly pressed five and dropped the thread. He listened to the pleasant, prerecorded voice and tried to calm his temper. He listened to the automated suggestions (had he updated his tablet? Yes, thank you. Had he turned it off and then back on? Of course) and tried to be patient. Patience was a virtue, wasn’t it? 

He listened to the entire troubleshooting menu and followed every step, as if he was his eighty-seven year old grandmother, and the little error message still blinked at him mockingly. 

“If your problem persists, please stay on the line and a customer service representative will be with you shortly,” the automated voice requested gleefully, as if it knew just how frustrating this whole ordeal was and was reveling in it. 

Will waited while ‘Sweet Caroline’ played one the other end of the line and while he typically would have at least hummed along if not outright sung under his breath, Will had never hated Neil Diamond’s voice as much as he did in that moment. He’d thought about just calling Barb, asking her what was going on, and if Mike was alright, but even his annoyance and anxiety wasn’t enough to make him call her before office hours. 

“You call is very important to us. Please remain on the line,” the voice suggested for the third time twenty minutes later, and Will began to wonder if whoever had recorded it had been something of a sadist. It really was far too chipper for the situation of informing frustrated clients that they were going to continue to be on hold for an undisclosed period of time. Will thought he heard a little hint of a challenge in the voice, in the ‘please remain on the line’. It was almost taunting him with an unspoken ‘what are you going to do? If you hang up and call again, you’ll be put on the bottom of the waitlist. Now, settle in and suffer while we ruin every piece of classic top forty top charters for you by playing them as loud as we can directly into your ear, because if you put the phone down you might miss the actual person when they get to your call and we’ll have to go through this all over again.’

When ‘Killer Queen’ cut out some four minutes after the cheerful recording, a very polite, very monotone voice finally spoke. “Thank you for calling Noble Synergy, my name is Alexis, how can I assist you today?” Will almost dropped the phone in excitement. 

“Yes, hello, I’m having an issue with the GPS tracking on my tablet and-”

“-Customer name and phone number please.”

Will gave all the information, waited as patiently as he could as he listened to the clacking of keys on the other side of the line. He explained the error message and that he’d already walked through the self service troubleshooting steps. The customer service representative read from her script, had him complete the steps _again_ (which he did), and offered little hums under her breath while she click-clacked away on the keyboard and Will found another thread to tug at. 

“I’m sorry, Sir. The bluetooth syncing has been disabled for that unit.”

Will snapped the second thread. 

“What? Why?”

“It’s just procedure for situations like this.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, suddenly very nervous. He hated being left in the dark and everything about what was happening with the ‘situation’ was engulfed in it. “Why was it disabled?”

“It’s a security concern, Sir. From what I can see, your device is working perfectly. There’s no need to worry, it will be reactivated when the product is returned to you.”

Will twisted the thread around his thumb and left it there. 

“Do you know when that will be?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m just technical support.”

“Can you transfer me to someone who knows?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. It’s in the hands of our security staff. They aren’t available for customer inquiries involving ongoing investigations. I can assure you, someone will contact you when they need to.”

Will didn’t care for the answer, but didn’t really see the use in arguing with someone who wouldn’t be able to help anyway. He thanked her quietly and left her a positive response on the customer survey before hanging up the phone. It wasn’t the _best_ start to his morning, but at least nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary for the situation he’d found himself in. Deeply unsatisfied with the call and still unsettled by the day before, Will found he had no appetite. Even if he did, he doubted he could stomach the overly sugary cereal he had become so dependent on in the last six years. Maybe he’d started to get spoiled from Mike’s cooking, on having actual meals in the morning instead of the cheap, bought in bulk stuff he should have grown out of fifteen years ago. He settled for a bottle of water and headed for his office to check his email. 

As expected, he had messages waiting. Lots of formal letters expressing sympathies for what had happened and what to expect in the coming days. Security would be upped, counseling services would be offered, each employee would have a meeting with a representative from Legal come talk to them, and everyone had the rest of the week off. Remote work would resume on Monday, there was even a helpful PDF explaining procedure. Everyone could rest assured, their safety was of the utmost importance and the company was striving to do all it could to keep incidents like this to a minimum. 

How reassuring that ‘incidents’ would be ‘kept to a minimum’. Will turned away from the screen and pulled out a bottle of klonopin from the drawer. 

He sat, looking at it for a long time before putting it in his pocket. Mike wasn’t here, there was no point in locking it away for fear the tall man might use it to hurt himself. Will slouched in the chair and looked at the clock on his phone. Barely seven thirty. What exactly was he supposed to do for the next fifty eight hours? Will had finished his work early and he didn’t really want to get in contact with the company provided crisis counselor. He knew how to toe the line with his own physician, what he could reveal without getting pink slipped and what he needed to keep to himself. Confidentiality laws kept him safe from his employers meddling too deeply in his affairs, but he doubted a private, company employed service provider would do the same. He’d get flagged for something, of that he was sure. Better to just not talk about it at all; at least not until he could get to his own GP. 

He settled for cleaning, watering Mike’s plants, and throwing every scrap of clothing he’d worn the previous day into the trash. Feeling quite satisfied with himself, Will looked back at his phone to see a message from Troy confirming plans for the next day, _**Six alright? I’ll pick you up. Bring your proposal,**_. It was barely nine. 

He wandered aimlessly, with no purpose, and ended up at Mike’s room. 

When he’d first arrived, the other man had always kept the door securely shut. It was open now, and Will wandered in before he even gave it any thought. He sat on the immaculately made bed before allowing himself to ease back onto it. He’d never laid on the bed without the other man right there with him before. When he’d moved in, he’d set it up out of necessity, not out of a desire for change of scenery in his own home. 

Will pulled a pillow to his chest and closed his eyes, tried to breathe in the smell of the other man. It was faint, and if Will was being honest, smelled more like Tide than anything else. Mike always washed the bedding after it had been used, especially if the activities in it had been vigorous. Will felt his nose pinch painfully as he gripped the overstuffed pillow closer. It didn’t even _feel_ like Mike in here; it just felt like a guest room. 

Will pushed himself off the bed and walked to the closet. It had been weeks since he’d seen the bed Mike had made for himself in there, and Will had never pried into it further. Did Mike still use it? Will cracked the door and glanced in. There on the floor, much as the last time he’d seen it, was the makeshift nest. Will crouched next to it and looked it over. 

This looked so much more familiar, more lived in than the actual room. The missing pillow from the bed was still there, along with two blankets, a neat stack of books, the lamp, the laptop, and a water bottle. Obviously, Mike was still using it. He still didn’t feel comfortable enough to move from the closet to the actual room. Will wanted to cry. Maybe it was naïve, but Will thought they were getting passed that; that _Mike_ was getting passed that. 

He hesitated for a moment, ran his fingers over the fabric of Mike’s hanging clothes before lowering to his knees and crawling into the space. It felt stupid and invasive, but Will couldn’t help it. He fell onto the blankets and buried his face into the pillow, the one Mike actually slept with. This was better; this smelled right. It smelled like bergamot, detergent, and Mike’s honeydew conditioner. Will curled up around it and lay on his side, facing out towards the room.

As strange as it was, Will felt safe in there, closed in, like being under the desk. Only this was so much more comforting, surrounded by Mike’s things in this small, safe space. Will closed his eyes again and tried to control his breathing so he didn’t actually have the meltdown his body was trying to force on him. He’d only been awake four hours, only been confronted by the sheer, vast, loneliness of everything for four hours. He should be stronger than this, more put together, but Mike wasn’t here. Will didn’t even know where he was or if he was okay. Was he comfortable? Was he scared, or lonely? Were they making him eat, what was it, ‘fully nutritionally stable’ meal replacement bars again instead of letting him decide for himself what he wanted? Will couldn’t even listen to the tablet beeping away in time to Mike’s heart. Why had they disabled it?

Will looked over at the half full water bottled and tugged it over. He unscrewed the top, popped the lid of his medication and quickly took four. It was a high dose but he didn’t care. Will just wanted to go back to sleep, to be gone, numb, unaware, and not wake up until this was over. 

**

He looked and felt like shit. Will had woken with one of the worst hangover feelings he’d had in months, with his head pounding and a horrible cramping that actually made him cry out. He had to scramble from the closet and ended up emptying his already mostly empty stomach in Mike’s toilet. It was mostly acid and water anyway, so he counted himself lucky enough that he didn’t have a big mess on his hands to clean up. He checked his phone; three AM, several missed calls and messages. He put the phone back into his pocket and sat hugging the toilet bowl in case his body tried to rebel against him again. His head was pounding and he didn’t want to move from the cool, soothing tile. 

He’d slept eighteen hours directly following eleven, only broken up by four spent awake in between. He still felt exhausted, worn down and heavy from the pills. When he managed to drag himself away from the toilet, he immediately returned to the closet to sleep again. He no longer cared that the inner voices that liked to chastise him were losing their collective minds over how lazy and unproductive he was being. They could fuck _all_ the way off. He pulled Mike’s blanket over his shoulders and rolled onto his side. It didn’t take long to fall asleep again despite his pounding headache and churning, cramping stomach. 

The second time he woke, it was a little after eight and it was to his phone ringing. 

“Hello…?” he asked, voice strained from just waking and perhaps a little raw from vomiting. 

“Morning Will. You awake?” 

“Yeah, of course I am,” he said as he rubbed his eye and sat up. “Sorry.”

“You didn’t answer my text,” Troy said and Will felt his stomach plunge. Hadn’t he? He could have sworn he’d sent a reply before falling back to sleep but…

“I’m so sorry,” he hurried to say as he leaned against the wall, heading pounding in protest as he did. Will looked down at the neat line of books Mike had collected and picked one up. “I must not have hit send. Six is great if the offer still stands.”

“Six on the dot. I’ll be at your building.”

Will would have given a farewell, but the line was already dead in his hand. He wasn’t sure if Troy was angry at him or if that’s just who he was as a person. After all, he’d driven away after dropping Will off without waiting for the proper social niceties. Will set the phone down and looked at the book he’d pulled out: _‘Invitation to a Beheading’_. Will didn’t remember buying this book or ever evening having heard of it before. It must have been something Mike ordered. Will flipped it over. It looked bleak, if innocent enough. It wasn’t like it was _‘ The Anarchists Cookbook’_ or anything. He set it aside, next to the journal and pen set he’d bought Mike as a gift, and pulled himself out of the closet to get cleaned up. 

Hours later and more or less presentable, Will sat across from his supervisor and fought down a wave of nausea as he looked at the greasy, overcooked burger on his plate. After his unintentional fasting brought on by medication induced sleep (which he _still_ felt hungover from), the food in front of him could not have looked less appealing if it had been trying. Will picked at it and tried to hide how sick he felt behind a smile while Troy looked over his proposal and outline. 

“This isn’t bad. Rough, obviously, but not without potential.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Will murmured as set the burger down without taking a bite. The smell was too strong and he refused to humiliate himself by vomiting in front of his supervisor. Instead, he took a sip of the beer Troy had ordered for him and hoped the carbonation would stay down a little better than grease would. What he’d really wanted was a ginger ale, but managed to stop himself from doing something as childish as asking the waiter for one. 

“I mean, the code is solid and the way you plan to integrate it into existing hardware certainly saves a lot of money on future procedures. Smart, by the way. Efficient. If you can save on costs you’re more likely to get funded. But what makes you think we’d even need this?” Troy asked as he flipped through the paper’s Will had neatly stacked and marked with color coded post its. 

“Well, I mean, I just found it fascinating that we have systems in place to know when a Domestic is in danger, or upset,” he explained as he poked at a fry. “But nothing to tell us if they’re happy.”

Troy nodded briefly before setting the papers aside and looking back at Will. 

“And?”

And? What ‘and’? Shouldn’t there already be a system like this in place? There are people who spend their whole lives under company contract, shouldn’t people care how they felt?

Will shifted, unsure how to respond. He looked at his beer and tried to focus his thoughts while watching the carbon rise to the surface of the mug. 

“Well, I got the idea because of my own experience. Mi… um, the one that works with me, he was really unhappy and he… He had to be hospitalized. I didn’t know he was so unhappy. If I’d known, maybe I could have helped and prevented what happened,” he tried to explain in the clearest terms without divulging too much information and breaching Mike’s privacy. 

“Oh, well, I can see the benefit in that. If we could tell when a product was showing signs of divergence, the company could save a lot of money on hospital costs and product replacement,” Troy said with a nod. “I know I lost one who diverged. Had to be shelved I think, maybe Decommissioned. If we could monitor a baseline for their comfort, it would certainly be easier to know to intervene when it drops.”

Will didn’t look up. That… wasn’t exactly what he’d meant. He wasn’t suggesting it as a preventative measure to protect the company assets so they didn’t lose money when a Domestic tried to hurt itself. He just wanted a way to know if Domestics were happy and comfortable for the sake of that alone. Didn’t they deserve to be happy? Or as happy as they could be under the current system? They gave so much of themselves to everyone else, they were integral to the architecture of well, _everything_. Wasn’t it a social responsibility to make sure they didn’t suffer?

He took a sip of his drink and tried to figure out how to say that without sounding stupid.

“You know, there’s been a lot of research into the subject of Domestic emotional state and stability,” Troy continued. “A lot of money has gone into ways to control and mold it so they’re more pliable and less… unpredictable. I think this could have value for their research. From what I understand, the subjects are so adept in concealing their actual mental state, progress has more or less stalled in that department,” Troy trailed off as he waved the server over. “One check, thanks. Anyway,” he said and turned back to Will. “I know at least one person who might be interested in funding it. I’ll send him an email, but I wouldn’t expect a definite ‘yes’ or ‘no’ until he meets you and sees the actual demo in person.”

Will perked up a little at that, though he wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with the idea of his tech being used to ‘control and mold’ Domestics’ mental state. Still, if he could get funding, _any_ funding and was able to produce a valuable product, he might have some negotiation power over how it could be applied later. It was a start if nothing else. 

The waiter dropped the check but before Will could offer his own card, Troy slipped his in the check presenter and handed it back. 

“Don’t worry about it. If this program of yours gets traction and takes off, I’m sure you’ll pay me back tenfold. We can make a lot of money with this, Will. Especially if you have the right people on your side and advocating for you.”

Will chewed his lip and looked down. Money wasn’t really the driving factor here, but if Mr. Walsh had as much clout and influence as Will suspected he did, it was certainly there to be made. If Mr. Walsh could get him where he needed to be, Will would be that many steps closer to his end goal of his own product line. Maybe he’d run his own department one day and have a team of his own that he could use to focus on his actual interests. 

“You know, I’ve been really impressed with you so far,” Troy said suddenly, startling Will. ”It’s not like you came with a big name or resume behind you. No one vouched for you or even knew anything about you other than what your transcripts said. I sort of thought it was a risk bringing you on, especially with your lack of experience with Personal Assistance Products. Someone said the one you have now is your first. But I have to say, you’ve exceeded my expectations. Not a lot of people have the drive or initiative you’ve shown. I’ve been disappointed before when people with potential just fizzled out. They didn’t have what it took to get the things they wanted. When they weren’t willing to do what needed to be done to advance themselves.”

Will couldn’t stop the smile at that. No one had praised him like that other than his mother and Mr. Clarke. No one ever seemed to think that he was clever or talented enough to make something of himself, or if they did, they didn’t think he had the temperament to go get it. 

“Thank you, Sir. I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“So do I.”

Troy gave one last look at the proposals before he pushed them across the table and back to Will. He stood, again ignoring all the midwestern social niceties that were ingrained into Will, and began to walk. Will put a ten on the table for the server and gathered his things to follow. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket as he did and looked at the email alert with interest. His inbox had been overflowing by the time he’d dragged himself from the closet after his day and a half, drug induced sleep. None of them were what he was waiting for, so he’d read them but mostly neglected to reply. This one was from Barb. He opened it immediately. He didn’t want to keep Troy waiting, so he only gave it a quick scan. 

_Thank you for your patience, we understand this is a frustrating time for you blah blah blah, a credit will be added to your account that can go towards your next purchase or a weekend rental blah blah, CPM8908 has sufficiently passed our screening process and can be returned to you at your convenience any time after seven am on Thursday. Thank you for your continued patience and understanding blah blah blah._

Will stared at the screen, chest tight. Mike was cleared; he could come home tomorrow morning. Will could have cheered out loud. Obviously he didn’t; this wasn’t the time or place to do so. He’d have all the time he needed to let his emotions out when he was home again. But right now, Troy was waiting for him. Will shoved the phone into his pocket and hurried out of the restaurant.

When he caught up to the other man, Troy glanced at him.

“Should we get drinks and discuss this more?”

“Oh, I,” Will hesitated. “I can’t. It’s so generous of you, but I need to get home. I’m sorry, I just got a really important message and I have a few things I need to attend to,” he explained apologetically. “I’d really love to have a chance to talk about this more, but I just can’t right now. I’m so sorry.”

Troy looked at him, as if considering his words and whether or not they were sincere or just an excuse. After a moment, he shrugged and turned to keep walking. 

“That’s fine. Come on.”

Despite Troy telling him it was fine, Will got the feelings that it wasn’t. The feeling only grew when he asked if Troy would be willing to take him by the office building to pick up his keys and car. Troy didn’t say or do anything outright hostile. He’d been the one who’d told Will his floor had been cleared to allow employees back in to collect their belongings, but the ‘I thought you were in a hurry to get home? You want to make a twenty minute detour? You got it,’ still stung. Will didn’t want to be a burden, especially after all Troy was trying to do for him. He apologized and tried to be as quiet as he could for the rest of the drive. 

It was after hours, so Troy had to park and call the security line to get Will let in. It was dark, with only the backup lights on, and quiet with only the night security in the building. Troy left him at the front desk to be escorted to his floor by a humorless security unit who didn’t seem to be one for small talk. Because Will had tried to talk to her, but she didn’t respond past one or two word replies. He tried to look her face over, to see if she looked annoyed by his presence or pleased to have someone take interest in her, but she was as blank and unreadable as Mike used to be. She stood motionless and quiet while Will walked through the office, over the broken glass, towards his desk. 

He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to look at Jesse’s desk while he collected his personal items, but it was hard not to. Even in the dark he could still see the overturned chair she’d fallen out of, the tangle of the cords under her desk that had been drug out when Will was pulled out from under it, and the dark stain of her blood. The floor might have been cleared for evidence, but the cleanup clearly hadn’t started yet. 

He gathered his things as quickly as he could and thanked the woman for waiting. He sat in his car, alone in the parking garage, and hunched over his steering wheel for a long time, just trying to control his breathing. He really _did_ want to get home and get ready for Mike to come back, but he didn’t trust himself to drive. There was a ringing in his ears, a smell in his nose, and he couldn’t see straight. 

Will pushed away the urge to drive himself to the hospital, even though his first instinct was to rush there as quickly as he could. His chest hurt, yes, but it was just a panic attack. He knew it was. If he drove to the hospital, he’d be stuck there all night with cardiograms and a psych evaluation. He had his medication at home, he’d be fine as soon as he got there. He just needed to get home, take his pills, and get ready for Mike. Everything would be fine tomorrow. Everything would go back to normal. 

Will leaned over to the passenger side, searched the thermal water bottle Mike had taken to keeping on his side of the car. The underground garage had done a decent enough job of controlling the climate of the car, so the bottle was still cold. He could hear the water sloshing around inside as he pressed it to his throat. It wasn’t the same as when Mike did it; there wasn’t the comforting presence of the other man to add to the relaxation, but it helped a little. 

Typing one handed while his other was occupied with the water bottle wasn’t the easiest task, but he had to send a message back. They’d said Mike could be returned at his earliest convenience any time after seven. Will wanted him back no later than seven o one and he told them as much. Whether or not they’d see the message and make it happen was yet to be seen. All he could do now was try and calm down and get himself home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is decidedly slower paced and much calmer than the previous chapter. I hope it didn't disappoint anyway, but I just wanted time to show how much worse Will is on his own, especially after a traumatic event. 
> 
> Real talk here... I found and managed to recover my old ff.n account. It... was a trip down amnesia lane. But after the cringing was over, it did make me wonder if I should try and edit or rework anything on it and repost it here. It's mostly Harry Potter fiction and the last was posted on 2009. Some of it is just.... hm. Others however are _salvageable_. What do you think? Should I try to edit any of this and post it? I don't write in that fandom anymore and the work I found are more or less relics from my past, and I'm more than willing to leave them as they are on the ff.n website. But... if anyone thinks they might want to read them, let me know. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated. Be well and take care of yourselves. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday!


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